Always and Forever
by SpiffyStar
Summary: Quatre's getting married?!?! See how Heero, Duo, and especially Trowa take the news. Sorry, no Wufei.
1. Always and Forever 1

Disclaimer:  I do not own Gundam Wing or any of the characters involved.  They belong to some very successful people in Japan.  I am making no money for writing this story T_T   I don't own GTA, Fritos, or M&M's, either.

Rating/Warnings:  PG, very, very mild language, shonen ai, angst, sap, OC

Pairings:  4+OC, 3+4, 1+2

**Forever and Always**

By:  SpiffyStar

"Trowa!  I'm home!"

Trowa walks into the small living room of his and Catherine's trailer, and gives his sister a small smile.  "Welcome back.  How was the movie?"

Catherine places her jacket on the back of the couch, along with her purse.  "It was nice, thanks.  How're you feeling?  Better?"  She puts the back of her hand up to Trowa's forehead.  "You still have a bit of a fever.  Did you eat?  Let me make you something."

"I had some soup."

"Oh."

Trowa walks past her and sits down on the couch.  The phone rings.  Catherine picks it up.  "Hello?  He's sick.  Okay."  Covering the mouthpiece, Catherine says, "Trowa, it's for you," and hands him the cordless phone.

"Hello?  Hi, Duo.  TV?  No, why?  Okay."  Trowa hangs up the phone and reaches for the remote.

"Who was it?" Catherine asks, taking the phone from her brother's hand and putting back on the cradle.

"Duo.  He says there's something on TV that I should watch," Trowa answers, turning on the TV to channel 4.  On the screen is a woman interviewing a young man with light, blond hair and big, sea-blue eyes.  Trowa's eyes widen.  "Quatre."

Catherine notices her brother's expression and sits down next to him.  "Oh, he's always on the news.  Everyone sees him as a model businessman, so people pay attention to how he does _everything_."

On the television, the interview continues:

"So, Mr. Winner, what has been keeping you so busy these past few weeks?  We haven't been able to catch up with you for at least a month."

Quatre gives a polite chuckle and smiles kindly.  "With the Mars Colony Project getting started, there have been many more meetings lately, so I haven't really had the time for any interviews."

"And how are the plans coming?"

"We've gotten confirmation on funding from several corporations, and the main staff has been chosen.  We hope to get started on the surface of Mars in less than a year.  Hopefully after the New Year."

"So soon?  Do you think the project is being rushed at all?"

"No.  We have a great crew and a growing number of families looking forward to a new life on a new planet."

"Excellent.  Now, regarding a subject that I'm sure many viewers are very interested in:  there have been rumors of an engagement.  Would you care to clear this up?"  The interviewer gives Quatre a sly look, making the blond blush.

"Oh, yes.  Umm… no-nothing has been finalized, but yes, there are plans for a marriage."

"Is the young lady with you this evening?"

"No, she is currently at my estate."

"You're living together?"

"N-no, she-she is visiting with my sisters," Quatre stammers.

Trowa stares, stunned, at the TV while Catherine reaches over to the remote and turns it off.

"Trowa?" Catherine asks worriedly.  No answer.  "Trowa?"  He doesn't say anything, but nods, gets up, and leaves the small living room.

Walking into his bedroom, Trowa falls onto his bed, face down.  Catherine walks in after him and sits at the edge of the bed.  She places a hand on his back and says his name again.  "Trowa?"

"…"

"You okay?"

"Mmm…"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"What's wrong?"

"…"

"Trowa."

"I'm gonna sleep now."

"Alright.  Just one question."

"…"

"Does it bother you that he didn't tell you?  Or that he's getting married at all?"

"Neither."

"You should call him for once."

"Mmm."

~+~+~+~+~+~

The next morning…

A lump in a large bed shifts slightly, revealing a head of golden-blond hair floating on an oversized pillow.  The door to the bedroom opens softly and a large Arabian man walks in.

"Master Quatre?"

There is more movement in the bed.  The man chuckles and says, "Master Quatre, it is almost noon.  I have brought you your tea."

"Mmnf.  Hnnfd aw nowm."

"Sorry?"

Suddenly, the lump sits up, a tangled mess.  It wriggles around some and then starts thrashing about wildly, surprising the large man.  Escape seems unlikely for the mass trapped in its fluffy, cloth prison.  The Arabian cautiously approaches the bed, setting his tea tray on the nightstand.  Just as he reaches to pull on the sheets, the object of his attention writhes even more chaotically, causing it to crash to the carpeted floor.

"Oomf!  Nnn… owh!"  Still trapped, the prisoner lays still.

"Master Quatre, will you allow me to help?"

"Uunnn…"

Big hands grab hold of cloth and pull, effectively freeing a pale, blond young man.

"Master Quatre, are you all right?"

The young blond, looking quite frazzled after his early noon ordeal, gazes sheepishly up at his savior.  "Yes.  Thank you, Rashid."  Quatre slowly eases himself to his feet, mindful not to trip in his former trappings.  "I think you may have saved my life."

Rashid gives a low, guttural laugh and gestures with his hand toward the tea tray.  "I brought you some tea.  Please, drink and then dress.  Jenna is expected in less than an hour."

At the mention of the name, Quatre sharply looks up.  "Jenna?"

"Yes."  Rashid makes his way to a large closet across the room and opens the mahogany double-doors, revealing an extensive collection of designer business clothing.

"I thought her visit wasn't until tomorrow."

"Then you were mistaken."

Quatre picks up his teacup and takes a wary sip.  He quickly pulls his lips from the steaming ceramic.  "Hot."

Rashid politely smiles and takes two hangers out of the closet, laying them on the bed - one pair of dark-gray dress pants, and one white, short-sleeved, oxford shirt.  "She is a nice girl."

"Huh?  Oh, yeah."  Quatre stares into his drink.

"She asked me to show her how you like your tea.  She's looking forward to making it for you herself."  Rashid goes back to the closet and brings back a pair of classic, black dress shoes.

Quatre continues his study of his cup.

"Master Quatre?"

"Yeah…"

Rashid sighs and places the shoes at the foot of the bed.  "Have you told your friends yet?"

"No, but I'm sure that they've heard about it by now.  News travels fast on the colonies."

"And what of Trowa?  He is on earth, am I right?"

At the mention of the name, Quatre's eyes go wide and his hands tighten around the cup.  "He's still with the circus."

"You should call and tell him the news."

"I don't-" Just then, the vid-phone rings.  Rashid starts for it but Quatre stops him, his hand on the large man's arm, and pushes the receive button.  The vid-block is turned on, so there is only audio.

"Hello, Quatre Winner speaking."

"Man, Quat!  Bein' all formal so early in the morning!  Oi, where are you?"

"Duo!"  Quatre quickly takes off the block, showing the smiling, heart-shaped face of his fellow, former Gundam pilot.  He gives his friend a glowing smile as he sits at his desk in front of the phone.

"Love the hair!  Retro-chic, right?"  Duo wiggles his eyebrows, causing Quatre to blush while he runs a hand through his messy pillow hair.  Duo laughs at the sight.  "It's all right.  I've had worse hair on good hair-days," he says, pointing to his head, and sticks out his tongue.

"Duo…" a warning voice sounds from the background and a hand reaches out to pull on Duo's meter-long chestnut braid.

"Ow!  Okay, okay," Duo says to the side.  Facing back to Quatre, his face turns semi-serious.  "Heero says 'hi.'"  Another yank, "Ouch!  Stop that!"

Quatre stifles a giggle, hiding his smile behind his hand.  On the screen, he sees Duo suddenly pushed aside and another young man appears, this one with shining blue eyes, and dark, mussy hair falling over them.

"Quatre."

Quatre blinks once, a bit surprised at the man's appearance.  "Hello, Heero."  He gives a less than brilliant smile.

"You look… well," Heero gives a pause, noticing the blonde's ruffled appearance.

"Thank you.  I just woke up.  I had a long night."

"I heard.  Duo insisted on calling after we heard the announcement on the news last night."  Said American suddenly appears, popping up behind Heero, and places his arms about the Japanese man's shoulders with big grin on his face.

"So, who is she?  What's she look like?  Is she cute?  Does she have a sister?"  Duo's smile fades again.  "Does Trowa know?  You told him first, right?"  He and Heero listen intently for the Arabian's answer.

Quatre starts at the flurry of question, but looks away at the last two.  He doesn't answer.

"You haven't told him?"  Duo asks, amazed.  He receives no answer.

"When was the last time you talked to him?" Heero asks.

"A little over a month ago," Quatre says, still not looking at the screen.

"A month?!"  Duo stares, mouth agape, at his pale friend.  "Wh-why?!  I thought you called him, like, every day!  He can't have been gone all the time."  Silence.  "Why did you stop calling?"

The blond finally looks up, but won't meet his friends' eyes.  "I got tired.  Why should I be the only one making an effort?  Every time I called, I felt like I was intruding, interrupting his life somehow.  Can't he interrupt me once in a while?!"  Quatre's voice rises noticeably at the last part.

Rashid, still standing off to the side, observes his master sadly.  Quietly, he walks out of the room and closes the door behind him, careful not to make a sound.

Back in the room, no one is speaking.  Duo and Heero wait for Quatre to continue, but he only closes his eyes and sighs, putting his head down into his hands and covering his face.

Duo tries to get Quatre talking again and pastes on a desperate smile.  "Quatre, you know how Tro is.  He hates phones.  Hell, _I_ hate phones.  But he-he's ten times more paranoid than any of us – even Perfect Soldier-boy, here.  Maybe if you asked him to visit, he'd-"

"I wouldn't want to bother him.  Besides, it's expensive to travel here from earth."

Duo's face falls at the distraught look on his friend's face.  He turns to whisper into Heero's ear, "Your turn."

Heero nods slightly and says, "He won't have to pay.  The circus is coming to the colonies, starting with L4."

Both Duo and Quatre, surprised, look at the Japanese man.

"Wha-?" Quatre starts, but Heero interrupts him.

"You should go.  Visit him."

Duo recovers from his shock.  "Y-yeah."  Giving his friend a devilish smirk, he continues, "See if Catherine has forgiven you yet; just avoid any places with sharp, throw-able objects.  I hear her aim is impeccable."  Duo winks, bringing out a small smile from the Arabian.  "There ya go!"

"Maybe I should invite Jenna.  I don't think she's ever been to a circus."

"Umm… yeah."  Duo frowns slightly.

"No," Heero states firmly.  "Don't involve her in this."

"She's already involved."

"You need to do this alone.  If you take your fiancée, you'll use her as an excuse not to say everything that needs to be said."

Quatre nods in understanding.  "You're right, Heero.  But, I'd rather not go alone."

"Then we will accompany you."

Duo starts bouncing.  "Really, Hee-chan?!  I thought you hated circuses."

"Hnn."

Duo smiles blindingly and kisses Heero on the cheek, surprising both of the other men.

"Maxwell," Heero warns menacingly.

"Sorry."  Duo looks back to Quatre.  "So, we'll see you then?"

"Yeah.  When are the shows?"

"I'll e-mail you the schedule," Heero says.

"Okay.  Bye, guys."

"Bye."

"Hnn."  Duo and Heero both smile (Heero a bit less than his companion), and Quatre answers with a small smile of his own.  The screen goes blank and Quatre turns off his vid-phone with a sigh.

There is a soft knock at the door and Rashid appears on the other side as it opens.  Quatre looks up tiredly, questioning with his eyes.

"Jenna is waiting downstairs."

"Oh!  I completely forgot!  Again!"  The pale blond quickly stands and rushes about, grabbing for his clothes - sometimes succeeding, sometimes dropping them to the floor - and rushes into the adjoining washroom to change.  The sound of cloth against skin can be heard from the door as the young man undresses and redresses.  Then a loud 'thunk' sounds, followed by a cry.  "Ow!  Damn it!"

Rashid rushes to the bathroom door, asking, "Master Quatre?  Are you all right in there?"

The door opens and Quatre steps out, head down with a hand held to his brow.  A soft, painful squeal escapes his lips as he walks to his bed in his oxford shirt and black silk boxers, dark-gray pants in tow, dragging on the floor behind him.  On his way to sit down, his feet, shuffling as they are, get caught in the sheets he neglected to pick up and he once again becomes victim to their wrath, falling flat on his face.  "Gah!"  Quatre whimpers softly as he lays there in humiliation.  "I'm having a bad day, Rashid.  Can I go back to bed?"  Teary blue eyes look up to a sympathetic face.  "Please?"

"The day can only get better," the large Arabian offers.

"Peh…" Quatre spits out. As he slowly picks himself up, growling at the sheets still wrapped around his feet, he lets his body fall onto the bed.  Bending his legs so that his feet are within arm's reach, he rips the offending sheets off of him and throws them to the opposite side of the room.  "I want those things burned," he says, eyes spitting fire at his tormentors.

"Master Quatre, Miss Jenna is still-"

"Yeah, yeah," Quatre mutters grumpily.  "She invited herself over here, she can wait."

"Actually, you-"

"Don't.  Say.  It," the blond orders edgily.  "I'll just slowly put my pants on, one leg at a time, sitting down so I don't trip.  I'll comb my hair patiently and gently so I don't inflict any puncture wounds on myself.  And then, I'll put some ice on my head to make this throbbing go away.  Just give me a few minutes.  Will you tell her that I'll be down shortly?"

"Of course.  Would you like me to get you some ice?"  Rashid asks warily.

Quatre plasters on a fake smile, but says nothing, staring at the single witness to his embarrassments with an eerie gleam in his eyes.

"Right…  I'll await you downstairs."  The large Arabian quickly exits the room, picking up the used tea tray on his way out.

Quatre continues to smile and watch the other man's back until the door is closed behind him.  Now alone, the blond lets the smile drop and his head falls into his hands.  He gasps as he unintentionally touches his injured forehead.  Still in his boxers, he stands up and looks closely at his reflection in the full-body mirror.  He leans forward to examine the gash above his left eye and gingerly touches it with his index finger.

"Oww…"  Quatre sighs deeply.  "This is what I get for rushing things."  He finishes dressing and combs his hair, pausing to scrutinize his appearance.  "I look awful."  Quickly running his hands through golden hair, the young Arabian walks out of his bedroom.  "Do you know what effect you have on me, Trowa?"

~+~+~

Meanwhile, at the circus…

"What?!" Trowa almost shouts in surprise.

"That's what the boss told me.  We're going to the colonies," Catherine states, holding her hands up in mock surrender.

"But Cathy, this is an earth circus.  The colonies have circuses of their own."

"Not traveling troupes like us.  Besides, we're supposed to be the best.  This is a really big thing – a terrestrial circus performing in space.  It'll be a first.  It's like we're pioneers or something."  The tall brunette gives his sister a skeptical look.  "All right, I know," Cathy continues, "You don't care for that sort of thing since you're already a war vet, but please don't ruin this for the others."  She looks up to her little brother, baby blues going puppy-dog style, bottom lip sticking out.

Trowa rolls his eyes and caves.  "Alright.  I'll keep my mouth shut."

Catherine gives him a bright smile.  "Thanks!  Not that you normally have a problem keeping quiet," she says, winking at him.  "Anyway, this gives you an excuse to visit your friends, right?"

"Mmm…"

"Boy, it shocked me to hear that Quatre's engaged.  I always thought, well, I thought he'd be the last one of you guys to get married off, but I suppose being in his position he'd be expected to marry quickly."

Trowa looks at her curiously.

"I mean, with the kind of money that kid has in his pockets, an heir would be desirable so that it all stays with the family, right?"

"I suppose," Trowa agrees.

Catherine looks up thoughtfully, saying, "I wonder who she is.  I'll bet she's gorgeous.  Famous, rich people's fiancées are always good-looking.  You saw Quatre.  Don't you think he's grown to be handsome?"

"He-Quatre was never bad-looking," Trowa argues, trying to defend the blond.

"Oh, I know, but he looked a bit effeminate with his big eyes, fair skin, and skinny body.  Now, he looks more mature."

"…"

Catherine eyes her brother closely and, noticing some discomfort, decides to segue into a different topic.  "Speaking of being mature, are you ready to stop milking your sickness and start rehearsing for our colony debut next week?"

"Yeah."  Trowa immediately heads toward a smaller tent.  "I'm going to check on the animals first."

"Wait!  Trowa, you know you shouldn't be around them when you're sick."

Trowa looks back at Catherine.  "It's fine, Cathy.  I won't touch them."  He starts walking toward the animal tent and calls behind him, "I'll meet you in the big top in half an hour."

Catherine stands still, watching him walk away, with concerned eyes.

~+~+~

In the animal tent…

Trowa sits with his legs straight out in front of him, his back against a large steel cage.  A lion lies in the cage behind the green-eyed brunette.  Trowa silently gazes up to the roof of the tent, letting his head fall back against a bar of the cage.  

"I don't understand why this is happening.  Just had to be the colonies," he thinks out loud.

The young man looks down at his hands, feeling along the lines of his palm with his index finger.  He turns around, still sitting, and gazes calmly at his silent companion.  "Do you know?  He's going to be there.  He'll want to talk.  Why does he keep wanting to talk to someone like me?"

The lion yawns and licks his chops, resting his head on his forepaws.  Trowa reaches into the cage and strokes the creature's thick mane.

"I know, I know.  I'm not exactly the most interesting person, am I?

The lion watches his caretaker coolly.  Trowa gives a small laugh, barely audible.  "You think I'm being pathetic."  His face goes stoic once again as he says, "I didn't want to hold him back, that's why I never called.  Now look where he is:  booming business, engaged to a nice girl.  It all proves that I was right."  Trowa stops petting his friend and pulls his hand out of the cage. "Practice time.  Enjoy your day off."

Trowa turns and walks out of the tent and goes into the big top where his sister waits for him.

~+~+~

Six days later…

Thursday evening, three young men lounge in a large and expensively furnished living room, watching TV – the news.

"Quat, can I have some snacks?"  Duo asks his host.

"You just ate, baka," Heero teases.

"I know that, Heeeero, but I'm craving something salty," Duo retorts.

"You're always craving something."  Heero gives Duo a soft version of his infamous Yuy-death-glare and an elbow in his side.

"And don't you forget it!"  Duo sticks his tongue out at his friend.

Quatre stifles a giggle behind his hands.  "You can have whatever you like Duo, but you'll have to get it yourself.  I gave the kitchen staff the weekend off."

"Oki Doki, Smokie."  Duo bounces out of his seat on the couch next to Heero and heads for the kitchen.  Right before he leaves the room, he turns and asks, "Do you guys want anything?"

"No."

"No, thank you."

"Alrighty."  Duo goes into the kitchen.

Quatre and Heero watch the news in silence - Heero on the couch, Quatre in a recliner next to him.  On TV, the weather report is showing:  perfect weather throughout the week.

"Another beautiful week," Quatre says, half to himself.

"Hnn."

"Back!"  Duo returns with several bags of chips and a 6-pack of root beer in his arms.

Quatre turns around and, seeing Duo's bundle, smiles weakly.  "Duo, I thought you only wanted a snack."

"That's right."

"Then why-"

"This is a snack for him," Heero says as Duo sits next to him, already munching on some Frito Twists.  "His stomach is a bottomless pit."

Quatre gives a small laugh, sits back into his chair, and stares idly at the TV.

Heero looks at Duo.

"What?" the American asks.

"Baka."  With that, Heero grabs the bag of Fritos from Duo's hand and starts eating himself.  Duo stares dumbly at Heero for a bit before recovering, and grabs a bag of regular potato chips and a can of root beer.  Sitting back on the sofa, he casually leans toward Heero, just enough before actually touching him.

"So, Quat, are we still on for the circus tomorrow?"  Duo looks seriously at his blond friend.

"Yeah.  I got first-row tickets for us and Rashid."

"Rashid?" Duo asks incredulously, "Quatre, we don't need a chaperone.  We're nineteen; we're adults now.

"Sorry, Duo, he insisted."

Heero glares suspiciously at Quatre.  "He wants Jenna to go with us.  He will drop out and insist we invite her."

Quatre turns angrily on the Japanese man.  "Don't say that, Heero!  You can't know that for sure."

"No, I am sure.  He knows your situation with Trowa.  He doesn't want you to jeopardize your relationship with Jenna because of it."

"Then he only wants what's best for me."

"Ah.  As do we," Heero reassures the blond.

"But you think I'm making a mistake?  Marrying her?" Quatre asks the Japanese man.

"No.  If you love her, then be with her, but you should have told Trowa."

"Mmm…"  Quatre looks down at his hands in his lap.

Duo, who has only listened to the conversation thus far, stands up and stretches his arms above his head and gives a big yawn.  "Well guys, I think it's about time we head out."

"I thought you were staying over," Quatre says.

"Oh, yeah.  I forgot," Duo replies sheepishly.  "In any case, I'm ready to turn in."

"But I though-" Quatre starts, but is interrupted.

"I'm kinda tired, Quat," Duo insists flatly.

"Oh.  Okay."  The Arabian stands, followed by Heero, and they all head upstairs where they separate into their respective rooms – Quatre into his private suite, and Heero and Duo into their shared suite across the hall.  Before closing their door, they all say goodnight.

Inside their room, Duo and Heero sit on one of the two queen-sized beds, side by side.

"I'm worried about tomorrow," Duo says.

"Ah."

"If Rashid really does bail, they won't get a chance to talk."

"Ah."

"If they don't talk, Quatre will always wonder about-"

"Ah."

Duo looks over at his friend.  "I don't suppose you have a plan."

"No."

"I guess it's up to me, then," Duo sighs.

"No.  We shouldn't interfere," Heero states.

"We already have."

"Not tomorrow.  Let's wait and see if everything works out first.  If not, we'll talk to Trowa later."

"So, you _do_ have a plan."

"Not really."  Heero scoots back on the bed and lies down.

"But-"

"Go to bed, Duo."

"Yes, sir…"

~+~+~

The next day - Circus Day…

Trowa stands backstage in the big top, stretching and mentally preparing himself for his upcoming performance.  Roaring crowds and children's laughter can be heard in the background.

"Trowa."  Catherine walks up to the tall man.  "You ready?"

Trowa looks stone-faced at his sister and puts on his half-face mask.  "Yeah."

Brother and sister walk into the spotlight together where a large bulls-eye with arm straps waits.  The ringleader announces the pair and silence reigns as Trowa is strapped to the bulls-eye and Catherine steps back to take aim with her trusty throwing knives.

Catherine looks around the audience within her peripheral vision and smirks.  Suddenly, she reaches back and forward-releases a knife.  The deadly projectile pierces the Bulls-eye with a defined thud and a gasp from the audience, right below Trowa's right upper arm.  When the crowd realizes the thrower's success, they cheer.  The uproar only grows with each knife thrown until there are seven knives surrounding Trowa below the neck.  Catherine then pulls out three knives, holding them up for the crowd to see.  She waits for a confirming nod from Trowa.  He blinks once and she releases, hurling the sharp metallic weapons toward his head.  Two knives land on either side of his head, the third just above, effectively creating a Trowa-silhouette.  The brunette is then released from the straps and he steps back, standing slightly behind his sister and bowing gracefully.

After the third bow, Trowa looks up into the crowd and makes eye contact with the one person he was hoping wouldn't be there:  Quatre.

Catherine bows a fourth time, but Trowa only stand there, frozen in position, staring at his old friend.  She notices her brother's odd behavior and grabs his hand, leading him backstage, all the while waving to the crowd.

Once out of the audience's view, Catherine pulls her brother to the side and faces him, holding his shoulders in her hands.  "Trowa, what was that?"

"Quatre.  He's out there."

"Well, duh."

"He's going to want to talk to me after the show.  I have to go."

"Hang on!  You still have the high-wire act to go."

"Jimmy can do it."  Trowa starts to walk away, but Catherine grabs his arm.

"No!  Trowa, you can't just bail in the middle of a show!  Especially this one!"

"I've done it before."  He tries to get away again, but his sister stops him.

"This isn't the war anymore!  You don't have any good reason to leave now!"

"Yes, I do."

"Fear isn't a good reason!"

Trowa's eyes widen at his sister's remark and then narrow to angry slits.  "I am _not_ afraid, Catherine!"

"Whatever you call it, Trowa!  You can't leave us hanging here just because you want to avoid talking to Quatre!  Now isn't the time to become a coward!  Not after everything you've been through."  Cathy's voice shrinks as she says the last part.

Trowa's eyes soften and he looks down at his feet.  "I'm sorry, Cathy.  I'll stay."

Catherine looks up, eyes teary and smiling.

~+~+~

In the crowd…

Quatre, Heero, and Duo sit watching dancing bears and prancing elephants.  An empty seat sits unused next to Quatre.

"You were so right, Heero.  Sorry I doubted you," Quatre concedes.

"Hnn."

"I can't believe he actually offered to call and invite her for you!" Duo exclaims.

"Rashid has never been this pushy before," Quatre admits.

"Well, Quat, when are you going to go back there?"

"He still has the tight rope act to go.  Then he's done, I believe.  Maybe after that?"

"Maybe?" Heero questions.

"Definitely?"

"Better."

"Man!  Dancing bears are lame!" Duo shouts.  A handful of popcorn hits him in the head from behind.  He turns around to find a little redheaded girl glaring at him, holding a small bucket of popcorn in her lap.  "Oi!  Was that you?" Duo asks, surprised.

"Yeah!  Wanna make somethin' of it?!" The girl dares, curly pigtails bouncing with excitement.

"What'd ya throw popcorn at me for?!" Duo exclaims, taken aback at the little girl's forwardness.

"Dancing bears are _not_ lame!  You're just jealous 'cause they can dance better than you!"  The girl gives Duo a raspberry and proceeds to throw more popcorn at his face.

"Why you little-" Duo begins reaching for the girl, but Heero holds him back.

"Duo," Heero warns.

"Did you hear what she said to me?!  I'll show ya who's the better dancer, kid!"

Heero holds his braided friend back again.  "She's just a kid, and a little girl.  You can't beat her up."

At this, Duo half-turns toward the Japanese man and whispers, "I know, but at least hold me back like I'm going to."

Heero rolls his eyes, grabs Duo's braid and drags him outside, leaving an oblivious Quatre to watch Trowa's last act alone.

Outside the tent, Heero continues to pull on the American's hair and walks him up to a cotton candy booth.  He gives the vendor a couple of paper bills and takes two cones, shoving one into Duo's hand.  "Eat."

"Huh?"  Duo stares at Heero confusedly.  "Heero, I-"

"Eht," Heero says again, this time around a mouthful of sugar.

"Heero."  Duo grabs Heero's arm and pulls him behind a small tent.  "What's this for?" he asks, indicating his cotton candy.

Heero, having just taken another bite of his candy, turns big blue eyes on his friend, cotton hanging out of his mouth.  He tongues swipes out for the escaped candy, but misses, making it fall to his shirt.

Duo laughs and takes a step up to the Japanese man.  Blue eyes follow him closely as he picks the cotton candy off of Heero's shirt, puts it in his mouth, and licks his fingers.  "You complain about how much food I eat and how hyper I always am, and then you go and buy me a big wad of pure sugar."

"You ate some of my candy," Heero deadpans, taking a step forward.

"Wha-?"  Duo steps back.

"Off my shirt, you ate my candy."  Heero takes another step toward Duo.

"He-Heero.  Wait a sec."  Duo steps back again and then stops, eyes narrowed, and places a hand on his hip.  Pointing his cotton candy at Heero, he yells, "Don't change the subject!"

Heero recoils at his companion's outburst.

"So?  What's your answer?  Why the candy?" Duo demands.

"It got you to forget about the girl."

"Girl?"

"Exactly," Heero says, rolling his eyes.  "The one that threw popcorn at you."

"Oh, that girl."

"Hnn."  Heero looks down at his half-eaten cotton.

"Thanks…"  Duo picks at his candy with his fingers.

Heero looks up to the other man and frowns at the vulnerable gesture.  "I don't like you like this."

Duo looks up quickly at Heero's comment.  "Huh?"

"You're too quiet.  Eat your sugar and be happy like you usually are."

"What-I-I thought you hated when I-" Duo stares, mouth gaping, at the other man.  "I'm confused," he finally says, head dropping.

"Duo," Heero says softly, closing the gap between them, and rests his hands on the other man's shoulders.  "Eat your sugar.  Fill up the silence with your voice.  I like it that way."  Heero's cheeks redden.  "I like you that way."

Duo looks up again, wide violet eyes meeting blue.  "Really?"

"Ah."  A hand rises to touch Duo's cheek.  "Please."

Duo nods.  "Okay."

~+~+~

Back inside the big top…

Quatre sits alone and waits patiently for Trowa's last act.  In his lap, his hands fiddle with the plastic from his long-eaten licorice rope.

In center stage, six clowns climb back into their little yellow car as three gymnasts back flip onto the top of it and form a pyramid.  Quatre sighs.  The clown car drives off, pyramid and all, and the ringleader walks into the center spotlight onto a raised circular platform that is painted red and yellow in alternating triangle patterns.  He holds a microphone to his mouth and announces the next act, "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!  Prepare to be amazed, alarmed, and… ENTERTAINED!!!  Cast your eyes over to our high, high, HIGH tightrope!  And watch as Trowa and Catherine perform their stunning stunts 50 feet in the air!"  The light surrounding the speaker goes out and he wipes his face with a plain, white handkerchief.

Spotlights of red, yellow, green, and blue flash around in the big top before one white light shines brightly on two people atop one of the tightrope platforms.  They smile and wave down at the audience.

Quatre, sitting relatively close to the area in which the tightrope stage stands, looks relieved at Trowa's smiling face, though he knows it is only for show, and hopes against hope that the tall performer will look his way… and smile for him alone.

"Trowa…"

On the platform, Trowa looks around the crowd and spots a blond haired, blue-eyed man gazing intently at him, but ignores the stare, determined to concentrate on his act.

Catherine lightly squeezes her brother's arm as a signal for him to start.

Calmly, with no balance aids, Trowa walks onto the rope, stopping toward the center, and does some fancy turns and jumps before pulling a few items out of his pocket:  a banana, an apple, a kiwi, and a grapefruit.  As he throws them up and begins to juggle them, there is a loud roar from the crowd.  The applause grows when he stands on one foot and bends his body, showing off his flexibility.  Once done, Trowa catches his fruit and throws them into the crowd, aiming the apple for a certain blond.  He walks to the other side and steps onto the platform opposite his sister.  Looking down, he sees that Quatre caught the apple and smiles to himself.

Catherine then begins her solo act, followed by her and Trowa's duet, done, to the horror of the audience, without the safety net below.  Once done, the safety is replaced and the duo jumps down gently into the net, bouncing up a couple of time before losing momentum.  They land sure-footed on the ground, waving to the crowd and taking their bows before going backstage to the rhythm of thunderous applause.  

Behind the curtains, Catherine gives Trowa a small hug and a kiss on the cheek.  "Wasn't that great?!  They loved us!" Catherine says with a big smile splitting her face.

"They loved the knife-throwing act, too, Cathy."  Trowa folds his arms across his chest and looks bored.  "That audience is the same as any we've performed for on earth."

Catherine's smile faults and she looks up at Trowa, anger flaring in her eyes.  "Tro!  You promised not to do this!"

Trowa hold up his hands in surrender.  "Sorry, sorry.  I'm gonna go check up on the animals.  Later, Cat."  He walks off, waving behind him.

"Wait, Trowa!  What about-" Catherine looks after her brother as he keeps walking away, and quietly add, "Quatre."

Catherine walks into her makeshift dressing room and changes into a short, white sweater and jeans.  She hangs up her costume and grabs the keys to her and Trowa's trailer.  Walking out, she decides to go by Trowa's dressing room to pick up his keys and street clothes, knowing that he'd rather change at home.  Going into the small room, Catherine slowly looks around, thinking about where Trowa might stash his things.

"A drawer would be too obvious… the closet, too."  Catherine stops in the middle of the room, one had on her hip, and the other scratching her head in wonder.  "Hmm…"  She snoops around a bit more, rummaging through the various costumes and checking behind boxes.  "I don't have time for this.  Let 'im get his own things."  She goes to leave, but stops in front of the mirror, giving herself a wink and a thumb's up, "Lookin' good, kid."  Rolling her eyes, she adds, "Look at me – talking to myself."

As she walks out the door of the small dressing room, Catherine spots a fair-haired young man looking around, obviously lost.  She walks up behind him and reaches a hand up to tap his shoulder, but before she can touch him, he turns quickly to face her, hands in a defensive position and brows furrowed over burning eyes.  Immediately, the fire is gone as the man recognizes her, hands going down to his sides.

"Catherine!" Quatre exclaims with a look of surprise.

Catherine looks surprised herself, but recovers swiftly, putting on her best smile.  "Hi, Quatre!  What are you doing back here?  Are you lost?"

"No, no.  Umm…" Quatre looks behind him and quickly turns back.  "I'm–ah–I'm looking for Trowa," he says, looking at the woman shyly.

"Oh, he's not here.  He went to visit his friends."  Catherine scoots closer to the blond and whispers behind her hand into his ear, "The animals."  She gives Quatre a meaningful nod.

"Alright," he says, smiling, "do you think, I mean, would he mind-"

"Come on, Sunshine.  I'll lead the way."  Catherine brushes past the blond, grabbing his arm on her way.  He trips a bit at first while she pulls him, but matches her stride after a few steps.  "You know, it's been a while since you last called.  Are you mad at me?"

Quatre's head shoots up from its downward gaze.  "No, of course not!"

"Alright," Catherine says calmly.  "Is it Trowa?"

"Oh, no… no."

"'Cause I can imagine how frustrating it might be to have to make all the effort in a relationship.  Even if it is just friendship."

Quatre looks back down, allowing himself to be led by the woman on his arm.

"I'm sorry he didn't call, Quatre.  He would say that he would and then make excuses later.  I think he just didn't want to interrupt your life, your business."

"It's okay, Catherine.  I can see how calling someone could be difficult for him."

"He isn't paranoid… or all that shy.  Don't give him that excuse."

"If he hadn't avoided talking to me, I may never have met my fiancée."

Catherine's eyes widen at the sudden mention of his engagement.  "Your fiancée?  That's right!  I was with Trowa when the announcement was on the news during your interview.  So, who is she?  Is she pretty?  Smart?  Funny?  A good cook?"

Quatre give a small chuckle at the last query.  "All of the above, although, I doubt the last is very relevant."

"Oh, please!  Even rich people's cooks need days off."

"I suppose," Quatre says, looking thoughtful.

At his remark, Catherine stops and turns toward him.  "What, you don't give your cooks vacations?"

"Of course I do!" Quatre says defensively.  "Just this weekend, I did."

"Okay."  They continue walking.  "So how's it going?"

"I'm living off of microwave popcorn and M&M's," Quatre says, laughing with his walking partner.  Suddenly, he stops walking and looks around, seeing some oddly familiar tents.  "Weren't we just here?"

"Hmm?  Oh, yeah.  We've been walking in circles the whole time."

"What?!  Why?" Quatre asks, mouth agape.  He pulls away from the woman as she smiles.

"So that we could talk.  The animal tent is just over there," she says, pointing to a smaller, plain canvas tent toward the edge of the circus.

Quatre regards her skeptically.

She laughs, "Honestly!  He should be in there."

"Oh."

"Come on," Catherine says, latching onto his arm again, "I'll walk you."

~+~+~

Meanwhile…

While Catherine was leading Quatre in circles, Trowa was visiting with the various animals of the circus.

Now, Trowa kneels down in front of a small wooden cage resembling a crate.  Inside, straw covers the floor and a small dish sits in the corner, filled halfway with water.

"Where are you?" Trowa says, half to himself, half to the animal that vacated its shabby home at some point during the day.  Trowa stands up and looks around.  Not seeing what he is looking for, he walks over to the lion's cage.  Inside, the lion lays, lifting his head as he watches the tall brunette with curiosity.  Trowa stops right in front of the regal creature and places his hands around two bars, looking intently into big, black eyes.

"Have you seen the Little One?"  Trowa pauses, watching the lion's reactions to his calm voice – nothing.  "She got out again."  He lets go of the bars and turns to look around the tent again.  When he turns back to the lion, he finds him standing right behind him, face practically touching the bars that separate the two of them.  Trowa narrows his eyes.  "Where is she?"  The lion shakes his head.  "Do you know where she is?  Is she with you?"  The lion lifts a paw and slides it down one of the bars.  "You didn't eat her, did you?"  A paw goes up to the lion's face and his eyes close tightly in frustration.  Trowa sighs and reaches a hand through the cage bars to stroke the lion's soft, golden brown mane.  "I'll go look around the tent outside."  The lion lays back down as Trowa leaves, and yawns.

Just as Trowa walks out, Catherine and Quatre walk in through the opposite entrance.  They walk past the lion's cage and look around.

"Huh.  I wonder where he went," Catherine says, puzzled.

"Maybe he didn't come in here," Quatre offers.

"No, he told me he was going to, and he usually stays in here for at least an hour," Catherine insists and looks around again.  "Trowa?"

"Well, I guess I'll try some other time.  I need to find Heero and Duo anyway," Quatre says, starting for the exit.

"Don't leave yet!  Heero and Duo are here, too?"  Catherine grabs the Arabian's arm.  "I'll go find him and bring him here.  You just wait here with the animals."  She releases Quatre's arm and goes out the opposite way they had come in.

Quatre sighs and looks around, eyes resting on the lion that had been watching the new visitors with amusement.  Quatre walks up to the cage and places his hands on the very same bars Trowa had held only a few minutes earlier.  The two stay quiet for about a minute until Quatre breaks the silence.

"You look like you know something.  Do you know where Trowa is?"  Nothing.  Quatre sighs again, letting go of the bars.  As he is about to walk around the tent, he notices a thing of snowy white at his feet.  The bundle shifts a bit and rests on top of Quatre's patent brown-leather shoes.  The Arabian tries shifting his feet to nudge the small animal off of him, but it doesn't budge.  He groans.

"I don't want Trowa to see me like this."  At the mention of the tall man, the white ball of fluff uncurls and stands, looking up at the pale blond.  Dark brown eyes meet sea-blue.  Quatre gasps and slowly kneels down.

"A lamb?  I had no idea."  His hand gently grazes the lamb's head.  "What are you doing out of your cage?  Where is your cage?"  Quatre looks around the tent and sees the small, empty, wooden cage.  "Oh.  I can understand your wanting to get out," he comments, looking back down.  Stroking the lamb's back, Quatre slowly stands and, watching that he doesn't step on any other small animals, walks over to he small cage.  He gets down on his hands and knees and peers inside.  He opens the door to the crate-looking box and reaches into it, grabbing the small bowl of water.  He then sets the bowl down outside the cage next to him, coaxing the lamb to the water.  Quatre sits down on the dirty floor, legs crossed in front of him, watching to see if the lamb will come over.  Eventually, the small animal inches forward and drinks some water.  After she finishes, the lamb walks up to the blond and licks his hand.  Quatre smiles sweetly and runs his hand over young, white wool.  When he senses that the lamb is comfortable with him, he picks her up and holds her against him, her legs folded neatly in his lap.  The lamb closes her eyes as Quatre gently pets her.

"So, what's your name, little lamb?  Did Trowa name you?"  He receives no answer, but continues chatting idly.  "You look like a snowball to me.  Do you mind if I call you by a different name?  Maybe Snow or Snowflake.  Whitey.  Snowy… Snow White."  Quatre starts giggling softly at his last suggestion.  The lamb looks up at the new sound, and Quatre looks down at her.  "What do you think?  Snow?"  He gets two blinks as a response.  "Snowball?"  The lamb blinks again.  "I'm kind of partial to Snowflake myself."  He smiles at the lamb and receives a soft bleat for an answer.  "You like that one?"  The small animal rubs the side of her head against Quatre's chest and closes her eyes again.  "I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

As Quatre continues his attentions on the lamb, Trowa walks back into the small tent, looking defeated.  He sighs to himself and prepares to search the area inside the tent more thoroughly.  Passing the lion's cage, Trowa heads for the small wooden cage and is surprised to find a young blond holding another, younger blonde.

At the sound of footsteps, Quatre looks up and gasps as his eyes meet emerald.  Trowa speaks first.  "Quatre…"  Unable to say anymore, the brunette stands, staring in silent shock.

"Trowa."  Quatre's face flushes and he looks back down at his armful, continuing to stroke soft white.  "Catherine said you would be here.  I've been looking for you since your last performance."

Trowa continues to stare until he finds his voice.  "How long?"

"Not long.  It doesn't matter, anyway.  I've had some company," Quatre says, looking pointedly at the lamb.

Trowa casts his gaze onto the small, white bundle in the Arabian's arms and his eyes widen as he finally realizes what it is.  "Little One…"

Quatre's head snaps up, surprised at the familiar endearment.  "You haven't call-" He stops as he realizes that the taller man's gaze is still resting on the now sleeping animal he holds.  "Oh.  Is that her name?"

"I'm not good with names.  It seemed appropriate."  Green eyes meet blue.  "How did you get her to let you hold her?"

"She came to me.  She was practically taking a nap on my feet when I saw her."

Trowa slowly approaches, watching the blondes for any signs of distress.  "I haven't been able to get near her since she arrived.  She cries out if anyone touches or tries to hold her."  Trowa kneels down in front of the other man, an elbow on one knee, the hand of the opposite arm touching the ground.  "Perhaps she was waiting for a kindred spirit."

At this, Quatre looks up, glaring at his old friend.  "I'm not a lamb, Trowa.  Nothing like one, at all," he states firmly.

"I didn't mean-" Trowa stops, unsure of how to continue.  "I know.  You're not so innocent, but you're gentle and kind.  That's all."

Quatre's eyebrows furrow as he looks down and to the side, not wanting to unconsciously liken himself to the lamb by looking at it.  Without raising his eyes, he says, "Why, Trowa?  You can talk to me so easily now, but you won't even bother to call me when we're apart?  Did I-" He pauses, his voice shaking slightly.  "Are you upset with me?"  Quatre looks up into the other man's eyes.  "Do you not want to talk to me?"

Trowa blinks several times, taken by surprise at Quatre's questions.  "No, Quatre.  I-Yes, I want to talk to you.  I'm not angry with you."  He closes his eyes and breathes deeply.  "I watch you on the news almost every day.  How you're so busy with… everything.  I'm sorry.  I never meant for you to feel bad.  I just didn't want to interrupt-"

"Neither did I.  But, you should have.  I wanted you to… I hoped you would."  Both men look down, eyes resting on the lamb in Quatre's arms.

"I saw the announcement."

"I'm sorry I didn't-"

"Congratulations."

Quatre looks back at the brunette, but doesn't say anything and lowers his eyes once again.

Trowa watches the blond closely.  "Are you happy?"

"Yes," Quatre replies quickly.

"She must be wonderful."

"Yes."  Another quick answer.

"You love her?"

"…"  Quatre doesn't answer and won't meet Trowa's questioning gaze.

"Why are you marrying her if-"

"I love her."

Trowa's lips part slightly and his eyes dull sadly.

"Did you come alone?"

"No. Duo and Heero are here, too.  Thank you for the apple, by the way."

Trowa smiles softly and says, "I figured you might need something to help all the licorice go down."

Quatre finally looks up.  "How did you-"

"I know people," Trowa says simply, giving he companion a gentle smile.

Quatre can't help but smile back, making his face shine.  "I miss you," the Arabian confesses, his smile fading a little.

Trowa meets his eyes sadly.  "You should go."

Quatre's face drops.  "Trowa, I-"

"Plan your wedding."  Trowa stands and turns away from his friend.

Quatre, forced to stay sitting due to his fluffy white burden, looks up desperately at the tall man's broad, muscular back.  "Trowa…"

"What's her name?" Trowa asks, still facing away.

"Jenna."

Trowa turns around and looks at Quatre in confusion.  "Is that a good name for a lamb?"

"What?"  The blond looks lost for a moment.  "Oh, no.  I mean-I thought-"

"I know, but I assumed that you had thought of a name for her," Trowa says nodding at the lamb.

"I… She's not mine to name."

"It's alright.  Tell me," Trowa says gently.

Quatre hesitates before softly saying, "She seems to like the name Snowflake."  At Trowa's unresponsiveness to his suggestion, he quickly adds, "I know it seems silly and typical of-"

"It's perfect."

Quatre's mouth opens slightly as he gazes at his friend in wonder.  Coming back to himself, he looks down at the slumbering lamb and says, "I think it's time to put her inside her cage."  He carefully turns his body and gently lays her inside the wooden prison.  "Did you make the cage yourself?" Quatre asks while standing.

"No, but once I can get a hold of the right materials, I'll put a new, bigger one together.  Somehow, she keeps getting out of this one and sneaks off all the time."

"Maybe she won't mind a bigger home."  Quatre looks warmly on the small lamb before shifting his gaze up to his tall friend.  "I should go.  This was nice – talking again.  I'll call later, maybe tomorrow."

As Quatre walks by, Trowa notices something.  "You're taller than I remember."  This causes the blond to stop and turn back.

"Huh?  Yeah, a few inches."  Quatre looks up, thinking.  "Five inches, I think."

Trowa walks up to face Quatre.  "Three, here."

Quatre smiles and winks.  "I'll catch up to you yet."

"I hope not.  You're perfect this way."

The two young men stare at each other for a bit before both realize what effect the innocent confession had on them.  They both look down, cheeks reddened.

"Th-thank you."  Overwhelmed by the intense emotion of the moment, Quatre quickly turns away, face still stained pink.

"Quatre-"  Trowa holds out his hand as if reaching to touch the other man.

"Can I come back?  Visit Snowflake… and you?" Quatre adds the last part in a half-whisper.

"Of course.  We're here until the end of next week."

"Okay.  Bye, Trowa."  Quatre begins to walk toward one of the exits, but stops, turns, and steps quickly up to his friend, throwing his arms around a his neck.  His forward gesture is immediately answered with two strong arms wrapping around his waist, pressing lean muscle against lean muscle.

Trowa buries his face into Quatre's graceful neck as Quatre rubs his cheek in Trowa's soft brown hair.  As Trowa's head shifts, the blond lifts his own, burying it to rest on the taller man's shoulder, arms falling to rest on a firm chest, elbows wedged between their two bodies.

"Little One…"  Trowa inclines his head more toward Quatre's, pressing his lips onto the blonde's temple, and then on his cheek.

Quatre's mouth parts as he closes his eyes, waiting.

Breaths quicken and handfuls of clothing tighten as the two men inch closer, faces lowering and raising as if magnetically drawn together.

"Trowa," Quatre breathes, almost into Trowa's mouth, as their lips are about to meet.

Just then, Catherine walks in.  "Quatre, I couldn't find my bro-" she starts, but quickly notices the presence of her kin, and the close proximity of the two men.  "Oh, my…"  Her hands go up to her mouth in shock.

Quatre, noticing Catherine's presence first, tries to pull away from Trowa, who doesn't let go fast enough, causing the blond to bounce back into his chest.

"Ca-Catherine!"

At Quatre's exclamation, Trowa looks to the side and sees his sister standing there, wide-eyed and frozen.  He quickly releases his hold on the other man, but can do nothing other than stand in one place, still with embarrassment… or shame.

Quatre looks worriedly at Catherine and tries to distract her from the present situation.  "He found me.  You were right about staying put."  

No response.

Catherine continues to watch her brother.

Quatre looks to Trowa who is still frozen.  "Perhaps I should go."  He walks to the exit with no one trying to stop him.  He looks back at the siblings and frowns.  As he leaves, Quatre mutters to himself, "This is all my fault."

Oblivious to the exiting blond, the brother and sister continue to stare at each other, neither one chancing a move.  Eventually, Catherine, worn from shock, falls to her knees and sits on her heels.  At her fall, Trowa's brotherly instincts come into play and he rushes forward, kneeling in front of the woman and placing his strong hands on her slumped shoulders to keep her from falling over.

"Cathy, I-" Trowa starts, but is cut off by his sister.

"I always suspected," Catherine says, looking straight ahead, "that you-you might have feelings for him."

Trowa doesn't say anything, but continues to watch his sister, looking for any signs of further distress.

"But, Tro… he's engaged."  Catherine's eyes look wide and worried at her brother.  Silence falls over them and Trowa stands.

"I know," Trowa says quietly, "but I can't help how…" He stops mid-sentence and looks around.  "I have to go find him."  The young man walks out of the small tent, leaving his sister on the dirty ground alone.

~+~+~

Outside…

Standing right outside the main entrance of the circus, Duo and Heero wait quietly for their friend.  Duo starts fidgeting and paces in a small circle, not noticing a pair of bright cobalt-blue eyes following his repetitive motion.  His patience finally runs out and he turns on his Japanese companion.  "I'm bored!"

"Hnn."

Getting no other response, Duo finds a new passion for pacing and does it in a fury.  Once again, he has a silent audience, but with his new speed, patience wears thin on the other side.  A hand reaches out at breakneck speed and latches onto the chestnut tail that had been swinging wildly with its owner's rapid movement, effectively stopping the braid and the man connected.

"Ow!"  Duo recoils at the annoyingly painful tug on the back of his head.  He whirls around and scrutinizes the bored, yet guilty look on his friend's face.  Narrowed eyes and furrowed brows lean forward into the other man's space, but get no reaction.

Heero fights to avoid eye contact, but finds it extremely difficult with that heart-shaped face so close.  He gives in and turns burning blues onto the American.  Expecting Duo to react and stand back, Heero is surprised to find bright indigo burning right back.  His eyes widen and he steps back.

Duo smirks at the other man's reaction, but chooses not to gloat for fear of the wrath of a Yuy scorned.  He looks into the circus entrance, trying to see if his blond friend is on his way out.  He sees only strange faces.  Hands on his hips, he asks Heero behind him, "Do you think he's okay?"

Heero nods silently, still holding Duo's braid.

Duo sighs loudly and crosses his arms over his chest.  "What's taking so long?!"  Anther tug on his braid causes him to turn around and look at his hair's captor.  Duo opens his mouth, about to yell at the Japanese man, but shops when he sees the look in Heero's eyes:  a smile.

"Baka."

"Is that all you have to say?" Duo says indignantly.  "This is your fault – giving me all that sugar and then being extraordinarily nice today.  And!  It's your fault that we have to wait for forever out here.  We could've played at least ten more booth games and he still wouldn't be out here!"

"You worry too much."

"Who's worried?" Duo asks, nose in the air.

"He can handle this himself."

"I'm not worried."

"I know you wanted to go with him."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Duo."

"You're wrong."

"Duo."

"This is me not being worried."  Duo forces a yawn.  "See?  Purely bored."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not.  I _am_ bored."

Heero places a hand on the American's shoulder and pulls him into a one-armed hug.

Duo tries to pull away, but forgets just how strong the ex-pilot is.  "Heero, I'm not-"

The embrace tightens and Duo's face is buried into a long neck.  At first, Duo tenses, but after a minute or so, he relaxes into his friend and wraps his own arm around Heero's slender waist.  They stay this way for a couple of minutes – one arm slung around the other, the free arm at their respective sides.

Duo is the first to pull away, but doesn't get far as Heero's hand rests on the back of his neck and keeps him only a breath away.  They look at each other, resting forehead against forehead and Duo breaths deeply.  "I smell strawberries."

"Ah."

"It's nice."

"It's from a free soap sample I got in the mail."

"Mmm… You should buy some more."

"Alright."  Heero pulls away an inch and gazes deeply into warm violet.  "Are you worried?" he asks gently.

"Yes," Duo breathes.

"Me, too," Heero whispers as he leans forward, only slightly, and presses his lips softly onto Duo's mouth.  Eyes stay open only as long as truth looks back, but as long lashes flutter and close, cobalt is hidden soon after.  Heero's hand releases its grip on Duo's neck and slides down his shoulders to rest on his lower back, pressing their bodies together firmly as the kiss deepens.

Duo's hands find their way around Heero's neck, one feeling through messy brown hair.  He sighs into Heero's mouth and tilts his head for a better angle, opening his mouth to invite his friend inside.  Heero accepts.

Too soon, the moment ends, and two reluctant young men pull away from each other, not daring to release the holds their gazes have on one another.  Their arms, still wrapped desperately in a half-embrace, loosen their hold, but don't drop.

Duo leans forward again, intent on being the instigator of their second kiss, but is interrupted by a light, tenor voice calling his name.  Immediately, the young men squeeze some empty space between them.

"Duo!  Heero!" Quatre yells.  He jogs up to his friends.  "Sorry it took so long.  Trowa can be hard to find when he wants to be."  He smiles warmly, receiving a nod and a smile in return.

"So, how'd it go?" Duo asks, cheeks still a little pink.

"Fine.  He said I can visit him here anytime through next week."

"Cool.  Well, I'm ready to go.  How 'bout you guys?"

"No."

Duo and Quatre turn confusedly to Heero.

"What?  Why?" Duo asks.  He looks right into the Japanese man's eyes and his blush comes back full force, making him turn his gaze downward.

Quatre sees Duo's reaction and takes advantage, "Duo?  What's wrong?"

"Do not distract us from the topic at hand," Heero states firmly.

Quatre looks wide-eyed at his friend.  "What?  Heero, I was just-"

"Don't lie, Quatre.  It doesn't suit you."

At the pointed accusation, Quatre's eyes drop and his face pales.  "What do you want to know, Heero?" Quatre asks quietly.

"What really happened with Trowa?"

"Nothing," Quatre replies quickly.

"It didn't go well?"

"Everything went fine.  We talked, we laughed, we schmoozed; we even made out like rabid dogs.  Are you happy now?!"

Heero and Duo are surprised by their friend's outburst, and the American can't help but laugh, surprising Quatre in turn.

"D-Duo?"

"A-ha!  I-I'm sorry, Quat!"  Duo laughs some more, "But-but the thought of you making out with anyone, period, is almost too much!"  His laughter dies down and he continues at his companions' silence.  "I mean, that's not to say that you wouldn't, or haven't, kissed someone, but Trowa?"

"Why?  Because he is a man?" Heero asks, eliciting a shocked look from the braided man.

"No!  I don't care about that!  It's just… they'd both wait for the other to make the first move, which would never happen 'cause they'd both be waiting."

Quatre stays silent through the entire exchange, seemingly admiring his patent, brown-leather shoes.  Finally, he decides to speak up.  "I'm tired of waiting."

Duo and Heero turn to their downcast friend, but say nothing.

At their silence, Quatre lifts his gaze and continues, "We almost kissed, but Catherine walked in.  I completely forgot about my life, my career, my… fiancée – everything!  For sixty seconds, I put my entire life aside just so that I could kiss someone who didn't even what to speak to me!"  Quatre's hands rise to cover his face, slightly muffling his next statement, "What's wrong with me?"  He receives no answer and takes the silence as an indication that there is, in fact, something wrong with him.  "I want to go home."

He turns back to his two friends and is surprised to see a third.  Emerald freezes him.  "Trowa."

"I'm sorry.  It shouldn't be this hard, and I'm only adding to the difficulty.  Do what makes you happy, Quatre.  There's nothing wrong with that."  Trowa walks back into the circus.  Quatre watches him sadly, shoulders heavy and slumped with guilt and worry.

Heero and Duo remain silent.  Duo walks up behind the blond, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

Quatre turns and looks into his friend's eyes, pleading, "Don't pity me, Duo.  Please."  He takes a deep breath and walks toward the transit station to catch the next shuttle home… alone.

~+~+~

The next week passes uneventfully.  Quatre doesn't go to visit Trowa or Snowflake at the circus, and puts more effort into avoiding his friends than anything else.

It is Friday afternoon and Quatre is sitting at his desk in the main office of his estate.  Papers are strewn over the cherry-wood surface, along with several broken pencils and a leaky pen.  The news is showing, muted, on the television in a corner of the room, and the curtains are drawn only half way so as to minimize the glare on the screen.  The blond Arabian sits completely still, hand clenched around a partly wadded piece of paper, and stares at nothing.  His other hand is fisted around one of many broken pencils, holding both pieces in a sort of "V" shape.  He had long ago held the end of the pencil to his mouth and is still gnawing on the now chewy eraser, a drop of saliva threatening to spill down his chin.

The door to the office opens, startling the dazed man, and Rashid walks in with a tea tray.

Quatre continues to sit silently, although the pencil has been dropped under his desk.  The drool finds its way down the oblivious blonde's chin.

"Master Quatre, I have your tea," Rashid announces, coughing once to cover a small chuckle at Quatre's expense.  "Uh…  Would you like me to pour it for you?"

Quatre glares at the large Arabian.  "No."  With that, he looks back into oblivion and ignores the exit of his friend.

Rashid walks out of the office, closes the door behind him, and sighs.  A loud knock at the main doors evokes his attention, allowing him a moment to forget his concern for Quatre.  Rashid goes to the large double doors and opens them, revealing two smaller men whom he recognizes as friends.

"Hey, Rashid!" Duo says cheerfully, "Is Quatre around?"

"Master Quatre is in the main office, but-" Rashid pauses, not wanting to reveal the blonde's current state.  "He-he's busy."  He receives two suspicious glares, but doesn't betray his calm demeanor.

Heero steps forward ominously, but is blocked by the Arabian, and scowls.  "You are in my way."

The side of Rashid's mouth twitches up and he replies, "I don't think he wants visitors right now."

"You don't think?" Heero rebuts, "He always welcomes us.  What's wrong?"  He glares at the tall man.

"What's going on?"

The arguing trio quickly turns toward the source of the new voice.  Duo speaks up first, "Quat!  Are you okay?"  He grabs the blond by the shoulders and gives him a once-over.

"What are you-" Quatre starts.  "Duo, I'm fine!"  He pulls away and gives the American his best glare, but his flushed face ruins the effect.

Duo starts laughing, holding his stomach with a hand and bends over.

"Duo, what-"

The braided man suddenly stands upright, still laughing, and tries to talk, "I-I'm s-sorry, man!  It-It's just that you have a line of drool hangin' down your chin!"  He laughs even harder and rests a hand on Heero's shoulder to keep from falling over.

Quatre quickly wipes at his chin with the handkerchief from his back pocket.  His grip on the linen tightens at Duo's continued laughter and its perfect whiteness is stained red.  Heero is the first to notice the blood.

"Quatre, you're bleeding."

"Huh?"

The Japanese man points to his hand and walks up to the blond, examining the wound.  Carefully, he loosens the smaller man's hold on the cloth, extracts it, and lets it drop to the floor.  He looks closely at the palm and states, "There are small pieces of wood embedded in your skin.  Do you have a pair of tweezers?"

"Y-yeah.  In the kitchen," Quatre replies, peering at his hand with squinted eyes.

Heero leaves the front parlor to go to the kitchen, followed by the wounded man and two on-lookers.  He asks the cook where he can find the tweezers and retrieves them from a drawer next to the sink.  Heero directs Quatre to sit at the table with his palm up, and proceeds to extract the splinters from his hand.  The blond winces a couple of times, but otherwise shows no sign of discomfort.  Once finished, Duo helps to clean and bandage the wound.  All of this is done in silence.  As soon as he is satisfied with Quatre's well being, Rashid leaves the three young men alone, directing the cook to do the same.

Quatre, Heero, and Duo sit quietly at one end of the six-seated dinner table, the first not meeting the others' eyes.  He gently runs his finger along the nice bandage job and sighs.  "Thank you," Quatre says quietly.

"Hnn."

"Listen Quat, sorry for laughing earlier, it's just-"

"It's alright, Duo," Quatre interrupts.  "It isn't your fault I'm this tense.  Actually, I'm glad you guys came.  Jenna is visiting again today."

"Jenna?" Duo asks.

"She's been over almost everyday this past week.  She tries to keep me involved in planning the wedding.  We set a date yesterday."

"You're still going through with it?  What about Tro-"

"What about him, Duo?"

"I just thought that with what happened last week, you'd put it off a bit."

"It's set for two weeks from now."

"Two weeks?!"

"I-I wanted to ask if you guys would be my groom's men."  Quatre looks up hopefully at his friends.

"Of course," Heero says without hesitation.

Duo looks between the other two and throws up his hands in frustration.  "No!  I won't.  I can't.  It wouldn't be right."

Heero glares, and Quatre looks dejected.

"I wanna be the best man," Duo says with a wink, making Quatre smile in relief.  He gives Heero a cocky look and turns back to the blond.  "So… can I?"

Quatre lets out a small laugh and says, "I guess, but I was hoping to ask Trowa first."  The two other men look blankly at him and say nothing.

Finally, Heero speaks, "Quatre, are you sure?  With what happened last week, he may not feel comfortable playing a role in your wedding."

"It's all I can think of.  Other than the subject of the wedding, I have nothing to say to him.  If I don't try, I may never see him again."  Quatre looks down again and plays with a loose piece of gauze left on the table.

"Man, I don't get the two of you," Duo says, "One minute, you're all happy together, and the next you aren't speaking to each other and you're both depressed.  I swear, it's Trowa you should be-"

Before Duo can finish, the doorbell rings and Rashid escorts a young lady into the kitchen where the three men are speaking.  The woman has bright green eyes, fair skin, and dark, raven hair draping straight, halfway down her back.  She is wearing a modest flower-print dress that hangs just below her knees and clings perfectly to her slim figure.  As she walks, her feathery hair sways gently around her shoulders.  She smiles sweetly at her fiancé, not seeming to notice his other company.  Rashid politely announces the new arrival.

"Master Quatre, Jenna wishes to continue with your plans."

"Thank you, Rashid," Quatre says while standing to greet the girl.  Rashid bows lightly and leaves the room.  Quatre walks up to Jenna, takes her hands in his, and kisses her lightly on the cheek, which she shyly returns.  "It's nice to see you again, Jenna."

"You, too, Quatre," Jenna says in a light, airy voice.

Duo and Heero watch, stunned and silent, but the first can only stay quiet for so long.  Standing, the two young men take one step forward as Duo politely clears his throat.  Upon the sound, Quatre turns.

"Oh, I'm sorry.  Guys, this is Jenna.  Jenna, these are my friends Duo and Heero."  Quatre indicates each with his hand and leads the girl forward so there is less distance between the four of them.

"Nice to meet'cha, Jen," Duo says, holding his hand out to the pretty woman.  She takes it and shakes his hand brightly.

"You, too.  You must be Duo."

"How'd ya guess?  Was it my deep voice, or maybe my glowing personality?"

"Um, actually, it was the braid, but those other things are nice, too!"

Duo laughs lightly and says, "Sure, sure.  Thanks."

Heero then steps forward toward Jenna and nods shortly, saying, "I am Heero.  It is a pleasure to meet you."

Jenna smiles politely and nods back.  "You both are just as Quatre described," she says and turns to the blond, "but what about the other pilots?  Weren't there five of you?"

"Uh, yeah," Quatre starts, "but we're the only ones who have really kept in contact since the end of the wars."

"I thought you said that one other was to be a part of the ceremony."

"Things didn't go as well with him as I had hoped," Quatre confesses, eyes dulling a little, but not enough for the girl to notice.

"Oh, well, maybe you should try again," Jenna suggests.

"Yeah, Quat!" Duo jumps in.  "Didn't you say that you wanted another chance to talk to him?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Then you should go," interrupts Jenna.  "I know how important your friends are to you, especially the one with… green eyes?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe we could forgo our planning for today and go visit him?  Does he live nearby?"

"This is the last day the circus is here," Heero informs the group.  "If you wish to speak with Trowa in person, it should be done today."

Heero, Duo, and Jenna each look at Quatre expectantly.  The Arabian can only nod and is pulled outside and into an old, beat up truck that reeks of gasoline.  He and Jenna start coughing at the stench and cover their noses and mouths.

"Sorry 'bout the smell, guys," Duo says apologetically.  "I bought this hunk-a-junk just a couple days ago.  It's gross right now, but just wait 'til I'm done with her."

"Duo, perhaps they should ride in the back so they can breath."

"Uh, sure, Heero.  You two wanna ride in the back?" Duo asks Quatre and Jenna.  Heero looks back at them to watch for their response.

"Only if Heero has learned how to drive like a sane person," Quatre jokes.  Jenna's head snaps to attention at the comment, fear showing clearly in her eyes.

"It's okay, Jen," Duo reassures her, "Quat's just kidding.  Heero's a great driver.  A safety wiz!"  He pats Heero's arm, letting his fingers linger slightly on the smooth skin.  Heero's eyes meet his for just a moment before he realizes where they are and pulls his hand away like he has been burned.

Quatre notices his friends' strange behavior, but doesn't say anything.  "Jenna, why don't we go sit in the back," Quatre offers.

"Alright," Jenna answers doubtfully.

The fiancées all but fall out of the truck cabin and climb into the back.

"Well, at least it's clean," Quatre says.

Jenna doesn't answer, but smiles, close-mouthed, and looks around.

Heero starts the engine and the bulky machine rumbles a bit, some black smoke rolling out of the tailpipe.  With a heavy lurch, the truck is set into motion, as are the passengers.  Falling over from their sitting positions and rolling against each other, Quatre and Jenna struggle to regain their dignity and finally manage to sit with their backs to the cabin wall and their legs straight out in front of them.

Nothing is said for several minutes until Jenna speaks up, "So, tell me about his other boy; the one we're going to see.  He lives with a circus?"

"Yes.  Trowa is an animal trainer and acrobat.  He's very talented and performs acts with his older sister, Catherine."

"Sister?  I thought he was an orphan."

"He is, but they discovered their relation after he joined the troupe during the first war."

"Oh.  So… what does he look like?"

Umm… He's tall – about 6'1."  He has green eyes and light brown hair."  At this point, Quatre laughs a little.  "He has what I like to call a uni-bang."

"Uni-bang?"  Jenna gives the blond an odd look.

"His bangs all fall to one side of his head, covering half of his face," Quatre explains, "At first, I thought his did that to keep his identity hidden, so people couldn't see his face, but when he kept it the same after the wars, I asked him why.  He said that it makes him feel safe."

"But the wars are over."

"For the world, maybe.  Physically - yes, but not in our minds.  It's hard to explain, but sometimes a soldier will relive past battles over and over again, so it's like the war never ends."

Jenna looks pitifully at Quatre.  "Are you one of those soldiers?"

Quatre had been expecting this question and so he smiles sadly.  "Ah."

The truck pulls over and Duo and Heero hop out, walking around to the back.  "Come on you two lovebirds.  We'll try to catch circus boy in his trailer," Duo says playfully, smiling.

Quatre agilely jumps over the side of the truck and lands softly on the ground, feet firmly set beneath him.  He then proceeds to help Jenna out of the truck, taking her hand in his and directing her where to put her feet so she doesn't fall and hurt herself.  She ignores his instruction and, reaching down, wraps her arms around his shoulders, effectively pushing him back and pulling her out.

Duo and Heero watch in amusement as Jenna's surprise actions cause them both to fall over, Quatre on the bottom.

"Oowww…" Quatre groans.  The blond deftly rolls Jenna off of him and slowly sits up, leaving her to fend for herself.

"You guys okay?" Duo asks.  He reaches a hand down to help Quatre up while Heero offers Jenna his aid.  Once standing on her own two feet, Jenna tries to apologize, "Quatre-"

"It's okay.  Just let me know next time you plan on doing something like that."

"Okay.  Sorry."

"Let's go find Trowa."  With that, the group walks into the circus' entrance, Quatre in the lead, followed closely by Jenna, and Duo and Heero behind her.  Duo notices that Quatre is walking faster than the rest of them and says, "Yo, Quat! Got a hot date after this or somethin'?!"

Quatre stops abruptly and turns around.  He looks at his friend in confusion.  "Huh?"

"You're walkin' like Speedy Gonzales up there," Duo says as he catches up to his Arabian friend.  Once he and the others reach the blond, they stop and stand in a small circle.

Heero looks around and comments, "Weren't there tents and booths around here?"

Duo and Quatre look around and nod their heads in agreement while Jenna keeps a steady gaze locked on the latter.

"They probably packed most of them up for their move tomorrow," Quatre suggests.

"Hnn.  Let's go find Trowa," Heero says and starts walking again, leaving the other three to watch his back.

Duo soon follows and shouts after him, "Weren't we doing that already?  Oi!  Heero!  Wait up!"

Quatre and Jenna stare blinking after them, look at each other, and shrug.  Quatre starts to walk after his friends, but Jenna stops him.  "Quatre?"

The blond stops and turns to face her.  "What?"

"I'm sorry… about before.  I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay.  I already said that it is."

"But you seemed so angry," Jenna says in a small voice.

Quatre sighs and says, "I'm not angry.  I'm sorry for acting cold, it's just… You know how we talked about the war and how it is for some soldiers… and you asked if it is the same for me?"

"Yes."

"And I said that it is.  My mind still associates people grabbing me as an attack.  Last week, Trowa's sister snuck up on me and touched my shoulder.  I was ready to fight her.  I was disappointed in myself – the fact that I could react so badly to a harmless gesture.  I'm sorry."

After listening to Quatre's explanation, Jenna's hands start shaking and she becomes nervous.  "You-you might have hurt me?"

"I would stop myself."

"Are you friends the same way?"

"To some extent, I suppose.  Heero still tends to reach for his gun when someone knocks on his door."

"Okay," Jenna says resolutely, "Okay.  That's-I can deal with that.  When we're married, I can help you with your problem.  I'll make you better."  Her tense face relaxes, her hands stop shaking, and she smiles.  Quatre doesn't return the smile.  He doesn't move.  He is about to say something when Duo's voice breaks in.

"Quatre!  Jen!  You guys coming?!"

"Yeah!"  Quatre shouts back.  "Come on, Jenna.  They're waiting."

"Alright."

The group meets back up and continues walking through the grounds.  After about five minutes of leisurely strolling, they catch sight of a small group of men taking down several large tents.  Among them, Heero recognizes their old friend.  He points him out to the others and they approach the deconstruction site.  Duo is the first to say anything.

"Trowa!  Aren't you gonna greet your guests?!"

The tall brunette stands up from his bent over position and looks in the direction that the voice came from.  He recognizes three out of four of the group approaching.  His brow furrows when he sees the girl walking closely to Quatre.

The visitors reach their destination and stand in front of a sweaty, shirtless Trowa.  Heero holds out his hand in greeting and Trowa takes it.

"It is good to see you again, Trowa."

"You, too, Heero," Trowa says.  He greets Duo the same way.

Jenna stays silent as she watches her fiancé step up to the tall man.

"Hi again, Trowa," Quatre says shyly, blushing as he notices the man's half-dressed state.  "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

Trowa nods silently and leads them into a smaller tent.  Inside, there are six folding chairs and two water dispensers.  The tall man fills a small cup and drinks it quickly.  "Why are you here?" he asks, looking to anyone but the engaged couple.

"Quat?"  Duo looks to the blond.  "I think we'll wait outside," he says as he directs Heero and Jenna out of the tent.  Quatre watches helplessly as they leave.

Once they are alone, Trowa looks to Quatre and stares silently.

"Trowa, I -" Quatre starts, but falters and looks at his feet.

"Was that her?" Trowa asks quietly.

"Yes," the Arabian answers, not looking up.

"She's pretty."

"Yeah."

"Does she know who I am?"

"Kind of."

"Does she know who you are?"

At this, Quatre looks up, surprised.  He opens his mouth, but can't say anything.  He looks away again.

"When's the wedding?" Trowa inquires while pouring himself another cup of water.

"In a month.  I came to ask -"

"No."

Trowa's clipped response catches Quatre off guard and the smaller man gasps.

"I can't," Trowa adds gently.  "I won't."

"I see," Quatre says dejectedly.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be.  Will you come at all?" Quatre asks with hope.

"I don't know."

"Please, Trowa," Quatre begs.  "I would really like everyone to be there."

Trowa makes the mistake of meeting the blonde's eyes and can do nothing but give in.  "I'll… see.  If there aren't any shows, maybe."

Quatre smiles and relaxes.  "Thank you, Trowa.  Well, I should probably go, then."  He turns to leave, but is stopped when a hand grabs his arm and forces him back around.  He gasps and looks up to his tall friend.

With burning eyes, Trowa asks, "Do you love her?"

"… yes," Quatre answers, but looks away.

Trowa releases his hold and turns back to the water dispenser.  With shaking hands, he grabs a cup and fills it with water, saying, "Okay.  I'll se you later."

Quatre leaves the tent without a word.

Green eyes curtained by raven hair watch from the outside as the blond leaves the tent and the tall brunette clutches desperately at his drink, tension causing his hand to contract and crush the cup.

~+~+~

Once out of the tent, Quatre immediately spots Duo and Heero chatting close together.  He starts to walk over to them, but stops when he sees Heero raise his hand to swipe at the American's bangs, causing the violet-eyed man to blush.  Quatre continues to stare as his two friends inch closer together until the Japanese man places his hand behind Duo's head and pulls him into a kiss.  Quatre gasps and turns away, embarrassed at his wanting to watch.  He starts to walk in the other direction, but Duo's voice stops him.  "Quatre!  Where're ya goin'?  The truck's the other way!"

The Arabian stops and turns around, fighting hard not to blush as he thinks about what he just saw.  He gives his friend an embarrassed smile and rubs the back of his head with his hand.  Laughing lightly, he answers, "Yeah, sorry.  I guess I got turned around in the tent."

As Heero and Duo walk up to him, Quatre looks around and asks, "Where did Jenna go?"

~+~+~

Inside the small tent, Trowa walks heavily toward one of the folding chairs and falls onto it.  He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, letting his head drop into his hands.  Lifting his gaze, he looks disinterestedly at the crushed paper cup lying on the dirt ground a couple feet away; the one held only a minute ago.

Trowa stands when he hears footsteps enter the tent.  Before he realizes who it is, he says, "Quatre…"

"Is not here," a light voice finishes for him.

Trowa's eyes widen as he recognizes the girl who came with the three ex-Gundam pilots.

Jenna stands near the entrance, not daring to get closer to the tall man.  Then, she asks, "Did Quatre talk to you about the wedding?"

"Why ask when you already know the answer?" Trowa replies calmly.

Jenna stands in stunned silence, watching as the man bends down to pick up the smashed cup and throw it in a small trashcan.

"You said no."

"Ah."

"It's important that you be there."

"I don't need to be."

"If you care about him at all, you should go."

"You don't understand."

"I do," Jenna says stiffly, causing Trowa to look back at her.  "I understand that you're in love with him."

Trowa smirks and laughs bitterly.  "You don't understand."

"If you aren't there, he'll -"

"You don't know!" Trowa insists.

"I have only known him for six months, and I may not know him as well as you do, but one thing I do know is that he cares a great deal about you.  I won't pretend not to notice the way he looks at you.  And when he talks about you, he gets this look on his face and his eyes shine."  Jenna's voice starts to shake as she adds, "He loves you."

Trowa looks away and quietly says, "And you would still marry him."

"He says he loves me."

"You believe him?"

"Yes," Jenna replies, but adds, "To – to a point."

"Hn."

"I'm in love with him, and have told him so, but he has yet to say it back."

"In love with…"  Trowa nods, saying, "Don't say anything to him.  I'll be there."

"Thank you."  Jenna turns to leave, but asks, "Why haven't you tried to stop him from getting married?"

Trowa's shoulders slump as he answers.  "Because I love him."

Jenna nods and leaves the tent.

~+~+~

The drive back to the Winner Estate is done in silence as each person is consumed with his or her own thoughts.  Once Duo parks the truck, Quatre jumps out as before and Jenna follows his instructions for where to place her feet.  Duo and Heero step out of the truck's cab and follow the fiancés inside.

Rashid greets them all warmly and announces that dinner will be ready shortly.  He invites Jenna to stay, but she refuses and prepares to be taken home by Quatre's driver.  She and Quatre only exchange polite goodnights as they walk to the door.  Before she can leave, Quatre inquires, "What did you talk to Trowa about?"

Taken by surprise, Jenna turns to the blond and replies with, "I'm sorry?"

"I saw you leave the tent a few minutes after I did."

"I only asked him to reconsider his decision about his not coming to the wedding."

Quatre's brows furrow.  "How did you know what his decision was?  Unless you were listening?!"

"I'm sorry!  I just – I was concerned," Jenna insists.

Quatre takes a moment to calm himself, breathing deeply.  "And what did he say?"

"He'll be there.  At the wedding."

"He will?" Quatre says, surprised.

"Yes.  I knew how important it was to you.  I only relayed that sentiment to him.  He understood."

"Th-thank you," Quatre says quietly.  His hands begin to shake and he unconsciously starts rubbing them together.  "I… Thank you."

Jenna gives a fleeting smile and nods her head slightly.  "Goodnight, Quatre."  She leans in to kiss the blonde's lips, but he quickly turns his head so that she only gets his cheek.  She pulls away, disappointed, and leaves before he can look up.  Quatre is left to stare at the door.

His guilt trip is cut short, however, by Duo's bright voice.  "Quat!  Dinner's up!"

The Arabian slowly turns and makes his way into the dining hall, braving a small smile for his guests, and sits at the head the large, rectangular table, Duo and Heero on either side of him.  One of the kitchen staff, a young man not much older than the pilots, serves their dinner and quickly exits the room before any of them can utter a thank you.

The meal is taken in silence, the Japanese and American men exchanging concerned looks while the Arabian stays ignorant of anything that may be amiss.  Eventually, Quatre looks up and notices his friends' meaningful glances at one another.  He blushes at memories that he had hoped would not resurface.  Taking a deep breath, he turns to Duo and says, "Duo, we're friends, right?"

The longhaired brunette is taken aback and answers, "Of course we are!  How can you even ask something like that?"

"We tell each other everything, don't we?"

"Uhh…" Duo hesitates, but then says, "Well, yeah, just about."

"So you'd tell me if you were with someone, right?"

The American's eyes go wide and he looks at Heero, blushes, and looks back at the blond.  "Quatre, I'm mean, that-that's… hell.  What do you know?" he finally says, defeated.

Quatre smiles triumphantly and, faking a hurt looks, asks, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Heero decides to cut in and says, "We thought it would be most prudent to keep our relationship secret until after you straightened things out with Trowa."

Quatre's smile falters, but his eyes immediately take a mischievous glint as he says, "Your… relationship?  I thought – oh my goodness.  I didn't -"

Duo and Heero look at their friend, wide-eyed and pale, the Japanese man having lost control of his vocal chords, opening and closing his mouth like a fish and making no sound.  Duo can only stare at the blond until he finally says, "You-you didn't know?!"  He decidedly smacks his boyfriend's head with his hand and yells, "Good one, Yuy!"  The perfect soldier is snapped out of his momentary trance and growls.

Quatre keeps it in as long as he can, but eventually has to let it go.  He laughs.  Hard.  And loud.  His head is thrown back and his hands rest on his stomach.  After a couple minutes of this, the Arabian leans forward, still laughing, and rests his head on the table.  His shoulders continue to shake while his friends watch him in stunned silence.

"What the hell is so funny, Winner?!" Duo demands.

Teary eyed and short of breath, Quatre looks up and, still chuckling lightly, says, "I'm sorry.  I just had to do it.  I couldn't resist."  He takes a few deep breaths, trying to rid himself of the giggles, and stands with the intention of taking his plate to the kitchen.  A strong arm, however, stops his progress and he is faced with burning cobalt eyes.  He gasps and sits quickly back into his seat.

"You knew?"

"He-Heero… I, um, I saw you today.  At the circus, when you kissed."  The blush comes back full force, and Quatre looks down.

Duo and Heero look at each other and smile.  "Hn.  And?"

The blond looks up quickly and offers a small smile and soft eyes.  "I'm so happy for you."  His smile falters, but he recovers quickly.  Heero's hand releases him and he stands, gathering his plate and utensils.  He walks quietly into the kitchen and puts his things into the sink.  Once his hands are free, he rests them on the counter top and leans onto it.  He breathes deeply as he feels his heart constrict.  He starts to whisper, saying, "Stop.  Stop.  I don't want to think about him."  His face breaks out into a sweat and he sinks slowly to the floor.  With his back to the cabinets below the sink, he raises his knees and hides his face in his resting arms.  "Trowa…"

Duo and Heero, following Quatre's example, carry their dishes into the kitchen only to be surprised at the sight of their friend on the floor.  They quickly set their dishes in the sink and kneel on either side of the blond.  Duo lays a hand on the Arabian's arm, saying, "Quat?"

"I don't," Quatre starts, voice cracking.  "I don't know what to do.  Allah, I don't know what to do."

Heero exchanges looks with the American and, looking back to Quatre, asks, "Quatre, what's wrong?"

"I don't know what to do.  I want him, but I don't know how…"

Duo sits on the floor and puts his arm around his friend.

"My heart hurts."  Quatre leans on the American and lets the other man pull him into a hug.  He starts to cry when he feels Heero's hands rub his back lightly.

"Quatre?" Duo says gently.  "Why don't you try to get some sleep, huh?"

"Do you know what I dream of, Duo?"

The American shakes his head slowly.

"Him.  He touches me, holds me… kisses me.  And then she comes.  I marry her while he watches, and I smile.  I can't stop it.  I know I can't.  I do love her."

"Are you in love with her?"

"I don't know."

"Bullshit, Quatre!"

"I could be… someday."

"What about Trowa?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I love him."

"And?"

"In love."

"Well, thank the high heavens!" Duo exclaims, releasing his hold of the blond, causing him to fall into his lap with a squawk.  "I thought you'd never say it!"

Quatre pushes himself up off of the American's legs and looks between his friends with a tear-streaked face.  "What do you mean?"

Duo rolls his eyes.  "Join the program, Quat!  We've been watching you go in circles over Trowa, but you never admitted to having any feelings for him beyond friendship," he insists, standing and helping the blond up also.  "Now go to bed before you get the chance to take it back!"

Quatre is effectively pushed upstairs and into his bedroom, door shut tightly behind him.  His face still wet from crying, the Arabian drowsily makes his way to the king-sized bed.  Not bothering to undress first, he throws himself into the big pile of pillow heaven awaiting him, and falls asleep, face flushed with thoughts of his desperate confession to his friends.

~+~+~

Duo and Heero move about in their shared suite at Quatre's estate, preparing for bed.  Heero quickly and efficiently rids himself of his jeans and puts on a pair of burgundy flannel pants, leaving his white button-up shirt on for the time being.  Duo opts to change tops first and then turns around to change pants.  Once he is done changing, he walks to the dresser and picks up his brush from the top of it.  With years of practice under his belt, he deftly unbraids his hair and slowly runs his fingers through it.

"Duo," Heero says while he begins to unbutton his shirt.

"Hmm?" Duo asks, working the soft brush through his hair.

"Do you brush your hair every night?"

"Mmhmm," the American answers absently.

"Why have I never seen you do it, then?"

At this, Duo turns around and grimaces as he pulls too hard on a snag.  "I don't – ow – know.  Damn it."  His face wrinkles up when he looks at the clump of knotted hair trapped in the bristles of his brush.

Heero smiles and walks over to the American still wearing his shirt, although unbuttoned.  He takes the brush from the other man's hand and directs him to sit on one of the beds.

Duo obediently sits, but says, "Heero, you don't have to.  I mean, my hair's my problem and you don't have much experience with-"

"Shut up, baka," Heero orders gently.

"But-"

"Shh…" Heero soothes, taking some of Duo's hair in his hand as he sits on his knees behind him, and slowly runs the brush through it.  When he finds a tangle, he gently works through it with his fingers and then with the brush.  Ten minutes later, he sets the brush down and runs his fingers through the chestnut strands.  He feels Duo shiver and he smiles.  "Did you enjoy that?" Heero whispers in the American's ear.  He receives only another shiver in response.  The Japanese man takes the curtain of hair and pushes it over the other man's shoulder, kissing the bare nape his actions reveal.

"Heero," Duo whispers.

Making no sound, Heero runs his hands up and down the American's cloth covered arms, stops, and starts to massage his muscular shoulders, occasionally landing a kiss when his hands' movements pull back the collar of Duo's shirt and expose his neck.  Duo offers no complaint, so Heero shifts his body to try to achieve a more comfortable position, ending up with his legs spread apart and on either side of his friend.

Duo can only sit, completely shocked at the Japanese man's forward actions, and moan his appreciation.  His muscles begin to feel warm and like jelly.  He leans back and feels Heero's hot breath in his ear.  "Heero," he whispers again and turns his head toward the warmth.

"Mmm…" Heero answers, moving his hands over the other man's shoulders and onto his chest.  He continues his ministrations and moves in to kiss the lips he sees, but suddenly, the lips are gone as Duo jumps up with a yelp.

"Whoa!  Whoa.  Okay," the American starts, breathing deep and raspy.  "Too fast."

Heero can only look up at him in confusion.  "I thought-"

"You thought wrong.  I mean, you – not really, but…"  Duo's nervous expression softens and he tries again.  "Sorry.  I'm just… not ready."

"Duo, it was just a massage."

"Yeah.  A really good massage and – and really good massages can lead to other, uh, things and I-"

"Duo-"

"I can't."

"I'm not asking you to."  Heero stands and approaches the other man.  "Too soon," he says quietly and takes the American's hands in his.

"Y-yeah."

Heero gives Duo a quick kiss on the lips and goes to his bed.  Taking off his shirt, he gets under the covers, saying, "Goodnight, Duo."

Duo watches in stunned silence, but recovers and says goodnight in return.

~+~+~

Another week passes.  Duo and Heero return to their apartment, checking up on Quatre every now and then to make sure that he is not going crazy with the wedding preparations.  As each day passes, the blond man appears more and more frazzled.  With no word from Trowa, the Arabian suffers from growing doubt about whether or not the tall brunette will actually show up at the ceremony.

Another morning finds Quatre in a sour mood.  More trouble arises with his bed sheets and he concludes that the entire bed sheet community is out to get him.

"RASHID!!!!!"

Thundering footsteps rumble the whole second floor as the large Arabian runs to wait on his employer.  Quickly opening the doors to Quatre's bedchambers, he asks, wide-eyed and fearful, "What is it, Master Quatre?  Are you all right?"  Looking around, he sees no sign of the young blond and takes a moment to breath.

Slowly, the door to the washroom opens and a dejected young man walks out, head hung and barefoot, in his boxers.  His pale blond hair hides his face as he maneuvers toward the bed, passing Rashid as though he weren't there.  The tall man makes no sound; he follows the boy with his eyes, turning his head only when necessary.  As the blond approaches the bed, his feet drag more and more.  Two inches before his legs bump into the bed frame, he stops and just falls forward.  A painful moan sounds, but the young man makes no effort to make himself more comfortable.

After several moments of silence and static movement, Rashid says, "Master Quatre?"

The immobile blond grunts in response, his body spasming slightly from the exertion.

"Can I get you something?"

"A shot to the head would be nice," comes the muffled reply.

"How about a shot of tea in your mouth?"

"Make it strong and you've got a deal," Quatre answers as he rolls onto his back and sits up gracefully.  "Could you bring some ice, too?"

Rashid's eyes widen at the request and he walks over to the young man.  "Master Quatre, what did you do?"  he attempts to take the blonde's chin in his hand and turn his face upward, but the ex-Gundam pilot easily escapes the advance.

Making sure to keep his head turned away, Quatre coldly orders, "Just bring the ice."

Shocked at the edge in the young man's voice, Rashid backs off and leaves the room with only an, "Of course."

Still sitting on his bed, Quatre lets out a long breath and glances wearily at his mirror.  Standing carefully, the Arabian walks over to the glass and peers at his reflection.  A red gash splits his right temple, a small trickle of blood making its way down the man's cheek.

"Damn it…"  Warily pressing the flesh around the wound, Quatre grimaces and wipes at the blood on his face, effectively smearing it into his hair.  "Shit!  Of all the damned-"

The blond is cut off as Rashid reenters the room, carrying a tray of tea and ice packs.    The young man turns toward his employee and glares hotly, causing the large man to frown.

"Call him, Quatre," is all Rashid says as he sets the tray down on a table and walks out, closing the door behind him.

~+~+~

Two days pass in much the same way, domestic employees growing increasingly tense and irritable due to their master's mood.

Rashid, at his wit's end, breaks down and does what he's been telling the blond Arabian to do for the past few days:  he calls Trowa.

Trowa is, to say the least, surprised by the Arabian's call, but keeps his stoic demeanor nonetheless.  "Rashid."

Rashid nods sharply and gets right to the point.  "I am sending you a one way ticket to L4."

Trowa frowns slightly, eyes narrowing as he says, "Don't bother.  I'll be there in five days."

"It is not soon enough."

"It will have to be.  I have shows for the next 3 days."

"You must have stand-ins."

"Yes, but-"

"Don't argue about this!" Rashid exclaims.  "I am going crazy!  Everyone here is going crazy!  And you are the only one who can fix it!"

Unsure of how to argue, Trowa tries, "Duo or Heero-"

"Have been unable to do anything about him."

"Do anything _about_ him?" Trowa asks in amazement.  "What exactly is wrong with him?"

Rashid sighs and explains.  "Master Quatre has been in a perpetually worsening bad mood for the past week and a half.  Up until two days ago, it was just grumpiness."

Trowa's brow furrows and he asks, "What happened two days ago?"

"He started screaming at employees.  He has practically locked himself in his room.  I found him with a deep cut on his forehead.  He gets agitated and starts thrashing about, causing himself to fall over and hit his head or whatever else on pieces of furniture.  I don't know what to do."

"How am I supposed to-"

"It's because of you that he's like this!  The ticket is on its way.  Be prepared to leave by tomorrow night."  With that said, Rashid hangs up the phone, leaving the stunned brunette to swallow his words.

Trowa stares, stunned, at his vid-phone in the trailer.  Too involved in trying to comprehend what was happening, the tall performer doesn't notice as his sister enters the room.

"Trowa, what do you want for dinner?  I'm thinking pizza, the take-out variety.  I'm really not in the mood to cook and-"  Catherine stops when she notices that her brother is not listening.  "Trowa?"  She receives no reply, so she approaches the tall man and lays her hand on his shoulder.  Again, she asks, "Trowa?"

Trowa slowly turns to face his sister and tilts his head.  "Huh?  Cathy, when did you come in?" he inquires as he walks past the woman and sits down in the living room.

Catherine can't help but stare, dumbfounded, at her brother.  "Um… just a minute ago.  Trowa, are you okay?"

The young man slowly nods from the couch and stares at the black television screen.

"Trowa," Catherine says again from the kitchen.

"I'm going to need some time off."

"Okay, when?"

"Tomorrow."

"What?!"

"And the next five days after that."

"No!  We have shows to do."

"Jimmy can do the acts in my place."

Catherine huffs in frustration and walks up behind her brother.  "All right, tell me the truth.  Some global emergency or an unexpected visit from blondie?"

"Neither."

"Neither.  So, what, you just decided that performing on L-1 isn't for you?"

"Quatre's getting married in five days and he's freaking out.  Rashid asked for my help," Trowa explains simply.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"You're gonna help Quatre so he can marry that girl."

"Yeah."

"I'll talk to the boss, but-"

"I know.  Nothing will happen."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Catherine quietly goes into her bedroom, saying, "Goodnight."

"'Night," Trowa returns.  He continues to sit on the couch, staring at the TV and thinking about what the hell he is supposed to do.


	2. Always and Forever 2

Same disclaimers and warnings apply as in Part 1.

~Part 2~

The next day comes and goes.  Trowa boards the shuttle that night with his express-sent ticket and sleeps the entire way.  When he arrives on L-4, it is the next morning.  Refreshed, but still a little drowsy, the tall man calls a cab and is taken directly to the main gate of the Winner Estate.

Trowa can't help but gaze in awe at the huge mansion.  After unloading his duffel bag from the trunk of the cab, he pays the driver and makes his way up the long, wide driveway.

Once at the door, Trowa raises his hand to knock, but the door opens before he even touches it.  Rashid appears in the doorway with a look of great relief.  Both men offer small smiles and Trowa steps into the entrance hall.

"Master Trowa, I am glad that you arrived safely.  Can I take your bag?  Jacket?  Would you like anything to eat?  Drink?  Tea?  We keep your favorite in ample supply.  Your room is the usual.  Go ahead and make yourself comfortable.  Master Quatre is upstairs.  He doesn't know you're here.  Feel free to rest awhile.  I'll be in the kitchen."  Rashid says all of his quickly, not giving Trowa a chance to reply, and leaves just as fast.

Trowa, once again, is left speechless and a little shocked, but makes his way to the second floor where his usual room lays untouched since his last visit.  After he deposits his bag on the queen-sized bed, the brunette looks around.  The room is rather large.  Not large by wealthy standards, but bigger than any bedroom you would find in an average home.  Although it is sparsely furnished, the few items present show the wealth and good taste of the owner.  A mahogany dresser and matching bureau sit against a shared wall.  A side table rests closely to the headboard of the bed.

Trowa walks over to the dresser and feels the top with his fingers.  Small gouges remain in the wood surface where he may have set things down too hard or carelessly.  He opens the top drawer and finds a photo of himself and Duo in the hallway right outside the room.  The American is smiling jubilantly while giving the camera a thumbs-up; the circus performer appears almost melancholy as he stares ahead.  Trowa smiles and closes the drawer, keeping the photo in there for safe keeping.  He takes one more look around before going out into the hallway.  Across from his room and a little to the right sits a set of double-doors with fancy, carved, gold-metal handles:  Quatre's room.  Taking a deep breath, the tall brunette approaches the doors and knocks quietly.  Receiving no answer, he puts his ear to the door and holds his breath.  Nothing.  He tries knocking again, this time louder, but still doesn't get anything.

Suddenly, a shrill voice yells out, "RASHID!!!!!"

Trowa jumps back, his face displaying minimal amounts of shock.  His eyes widen when he feels the floor shake slightly under his feet.  The wall also trembles when he rests his hand against it.  Not until he sees a form racing toward him does Trowa realize what is causing the confined quake.

~+~+~

For what could be the thousandth time this week, Rashid runs down a hall that he is beginning to loath.  On his way, he notices the tall, lanky figure of one Trowa Barton, but doesn't slow his pace.

~+~+~

As the large Arabian approaches fast, Trowa slowly backs away from Quatre's room, making a mad dash for his own bedroom at the last moment.  He watches as Rashid reaches his destination, and gives himself a moment to calm frayed nerves.  As he continues to spy, the other man proceeds to knock gently on the ornate doors.  He receives no answer, but continues to wait there.  There is no movement for a considerable amount of time, making the green-eyed brunette more than a little nervous.

With no warning, Rashid turns on Trowa and says, "He never answers until I yell through the door.  Come, stand beside me."  The large Arabian moves to the side as Trowa approaches.  "Master Quatre!  Are you alright?!"

Slowly, one door opens and Quatre appears with his head bowed, cradled in one hand.  "Rashid, please don't yell.  I have a headache."  He goes back into his room, but before he can close the door, Rashid stops it with his hand.

"You have a visitor."  Rashid turns and leaves, walking slowly but surely down the hallway.

Quatre doesn't bother turning around and just leaves the door open.  Trowa quietly follows him inside.  "Quatre…"  The blond drops his body onto the bed and rolls onto his side, facing away from the tall young man.  "Quatre are you alright?"

"…"

Trowa approaches the bed and sits down on the edge, facing the opposite direction as Quatre.  "Rashid asked me to come.  He said you've been upset and that Heero and Duo have both been unable to help you."

"…"

"Honestly, I don't know what I can do," the performer admits.

"Then why did you come?" asks the blond in a raspy voice.

Trowa quickly turns around, staring at the blonde's back.  "I came because – because I want to… help," he finishes weakly.

"Heh, everyone want to marry me off," Quatre says bitterly.

"That's not what I meant," Trowa insists.

"I told Duo and Heero my secret.  Do you know my secret?"

"Do you know mine?" Trowa answers quietly.

Quatre gracefully sits up and turns to face his friend.  "I think it's the same as mine."

"I disagree."

"I love you."

"You love Jenna."

"I'm in love with you."

"You love everyone," Trowa argues, "You can't help it; it's your nature."

"I'm _in_ love with you."

Trowa pauses.  "No, you're not."

"I can prove it," Quatre insists.

Trowa laughs lightly, not smiling.  "And how is that?"

"I would rather die than marry someone I merely love," Quatre says desperately.

"Is that your solution?  Death?" Trowa asks, looking at the blond man sadly.

Quatre changes angles.  "I'll call it off."

"You won't.  You can't hurt her like that."

"It'll hurt more to go through with it."

"And after you call it off?" Trowa inquires dubiously.

"I'll tell everyone the truth," Quatre replies simply.

"I won't."

Quatre's eyes widen.  "What?  Why?"

"Because I love you.  And I want you to have a good life.  You deserve everything you have and you deserve to be with someone whom you can share that with - someone who can give you a family of your own to share your success with.  I don't want to be responsible for holding you back."

"You don't, Trowa!" Quatre exclaims, "You never have!"  He reaches out to grab Trowa's arm, but the tall man stands abruptly, more than an arm's length away.

"I know about the pressure you were under before you met Jenna!  Your family needs you to do this!"

"Trowa, please…" Quatre pleads.

"I need you to believe me when I say that everything I've done has been for you.  When I stopped contacting you - when I acted like I wanted nothing to do with you – it was all so you could attain what would be impossible with me.

"Trowa, adoption is-"

"It's not just about having kids, Quatre!" Trowa insists, "Jenna is beautiful and bright.  She's obviously outgoing and – and pleasant."  The performer's shoulder visibly sag as he says, "That girl is a better match for you than I could ever be."

With sympathetic eyes, Quatre stands and walks to Trowa's side.  Placing a hand on the taller man's shoulder, he says, "What good will it do me to marry someone who acts the same as I do?  I want somebody who accentuates my qualities, someone who's best attributes I compliment.  And Trowa, seeing your occasional smile means more to me than anyone else's everyday grin.  Also," he adds shyly, "you understand me."

Trowa opens his mouth to say something, but Quatre interrupts him, looking away, saying, "I know understanding comes with time, but… I was talking to Jenna that day when we visited you at the circus.  I told her about the nightmares and bad reactions to slight movements out of my direct line of sight.  I told her how I almost hit Cathy when she came up behind me just to say hello.  She said that once we're married, she'd help to cure me.  She'd "fix" my problem.  She's probably already talked to her mother – a psychologist - about it.  They don't understand.  How can they?"

Trowa can only stare at his friend, gaze softening after a moment.  Slowly, he turns and grabs Quatre's shoulders, pulling him against his chest.  He hears the blond gasp as he wraps his arms around him, lowering his head to breath into his hair.  He closes his eyes and tightens his grip.

"Trowa…" Quatre breathes, exhaling onto the taller man's neck.  He tries to pull his arms out from between their bodies, but Trowa only squeezes him harder.  The Arabian starts to melt completely, but freezes when Trowa says, "This is the last time that I will understand as anything more than a friend."

Trowa pulls away, doing his best not to look into Quatre's saddened eyes, and leaves.  Once in the hall with the double doors shut, he goes to the opposite wall, pushing with his arm's straight out in front of him.  Then, bending his elbows, he rests his head against the wall, banging it a couple of time for effect.  "I'm such an idiot," he mumbles.  Pushing off, he heads downstairs for the tea Rashid had offered him earlier.

~+~+~

For the following three days, Trowa does everything in his power to avoid Quatre, no matter how much it hurts either of them.  Unfortunately, Rashid makes it especially difficult for him, fabricating reasons for the brunette to stay, forcing him to remain strictly on the property.  But when the day for Quatre's surprise bachelor party arrives, Duo and Heero make a less than expected visit and are pleasantly surprised to find the circus performer there.

"Trowa!" Duo shouts from the doorway to the tall young man descending the main staircase, around Rashid who had answered the door.  "Didn't expect you to be here!"  The American boldly ambles inside and gives his friend a hearty handshake.

"Hello, Duo," Trowa says, accepting the warm hello.

Heero comes up behind the braided man and offers his hand also.  "Trowa."

"Heero."

Rashid leads the trio into the kitchen and fixes everyone some tea and coffee.  As the three young men sit down, Heero asks, "Where is Quatre?  We should tell him of our plans."

"Nah," Duo says, "He'll probably just refuse.  Besides, I was hoping to surprise him."

"Surprise him with what?" Rashid inquires as he serves the drinks.

"A bachelor party," the American replies nonchalantly.

"Bachelor party?" Trowa asks.  "I didn't know you were-"

"You said you had shows all this week," Heero interrupts.  "We did not expect you to be here."

"Yeah.  Neither did I," the performer mumbles, glaring at Rashid who ignorantly continues to pour drinks.

"Anyway," Duo continues, "We were thinking about going to a bar or just raiding the wine cellar here."

"Master Quatre does not drink," Rashid interjects, "And may I remind you that all of you are underage."

At this, Duo huffs and slumps into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.  With a pouting lip, he says, "I should've known not to say anything in front of you."

"I am glad you did.  You are nineteen and on these premises are restricted to water, milk, coffee, and tea.  Maybe some apple cider if there is any left."

"Then maybe we'll just have to go elsewhere," Duo counters.

Trowa laughs lightly.  "If you can get Quatre out of his room.

Heero's eyes narrow at Trowa's comment.  "He is still acting like that?"

Trowa nods, frowning.  "Although, I have seen him venture out into the kitchen for a snack."

"Okay," Duo says, "Maybe we'll stick to apple cider, then."

"If there's any left," Trowa reminds him.  When he notices two curious glances directed toward him, he adds, "Rashid just said so.  Quatre loves cider.  If he gets a craving, he'll find a bottle no matter how well hidden.  It's like he can smell it through the glass."  A small smile creeps up on him and he can't stop it, earning two knowing looks from his friends.

"We'll wait 'til later this afternoon to ambush him.  Until then, who's up for some GTA?"

~+~+~

Four o'clock comes and goes.  Then five.  When six rolls by with no sign of the blond, Duo, Heero, and Trowa intensify their search.  By seven that evening, the trio decides to give up, and lounges in the main living room.

"Man, who knew Quat was such a pro at evasion tactics," Duo says, falling into the fluffy couch in the middle of the room.

Heero sits calmly next to Duo, looking at nothing in particular before eyeing the American.  "We should have known.  He was a soldier like the rest of us… kind of."

"Ah," Trowa agrees, "But between the three of us, we should have seen at least a clue of where he's hidden himself."

Duo abruptly stands and turns on his friends.  "I say we start without him.  Maybe he'll hear how much fun we're having and come out on his own."

"And what do you suggest we do that would be so much fun?" Trowa asks skeptically.

Silence.

Duo quickly sits back down with a huff, a little bit closer to Heero than he was before.  He leans over and whispers something into Heero's ear.  The Japanese man's cheeks stain bright pink, making the American laugh.

Trowa watches with curiosity and asks, "What?"

Heero blushes even deeper.  "N-nothing."

Duo laughs some more and urges, "Come on, Hee-chan, don't be shy."  Looking at Trowa, he starts to explain, "I was just telling Heero that he and I could-"

"Maxwell…" Heero warns hotly.

"Never mind," Duo concedes.

Trowa laughs genuinely.  "You guys definitely belong together."

Violet and cobalt eyes widen with a collective, "What?!"

Their reaction only makes Trowa laugh more.  "I'm not blind!" he insists between chuckles, "I saw when you sat closer to Heero just now, Duo.  I saw the way you walked together and interacted with each other at the circus – stolen glances every now and then, taken when you think no one is looking."  He smiles warmly, then gets up out of the recliner he had been relaxing in.  "I think I'm going to go get a snack.  Do you guys want anything?"

Heero and Duo shake their heads no, Duo semi-leaning on Heero's arm.  When Trowa leaves the room, the American takes advantage of his position and presses himself more firmly against the other man's side.  Heero's blush returns full force as he fights with himself over how to react to his admirer.  He decides to try some evasion tactics of his own and stands abruptly, causing Duo to fall over onto the seat cushions face first.  "I – uh – I'm hungry."  That said, Heero leaves a greatly disappointed Duo alone in the large room as he retreats to the kitchen.  There, he finds Trowa, head buried in the refrigerator.

"Find anything yet?" Heero asks casually, letting the taller man know that he is in the room before getting too close.

Peanut butter.  Mayonnaise.  I found some Jell-o, but that looks questionable," Trowa answers, standing straight and holding a small bowl.  "Jell-o isn't supposed to be furry, right?"

Heero shrugs and starts to look in the cabinets.  "I don't know.  I've never had Jell-o."

"Hmm…"  Trowa sets the bowl aside and starts digging again.  "Heero."

"Hnn."

"How long have you and Duo been together?"

Heero pulls out a few small boxes from a cupboard.  "A couple weeks, I guess."

"Ah."  Again, Trowa pulls out a small bowl, this time with vegetables.  He sets it on the counter quickly.  "And how long have you wanted him?"

At this question, Heero stops his search and stares at the countertop, back turned to his friend.  He doesn't say anything.

"Heero?"  Trowa turns toward the Japanese man.

"Do you like macaroni and cheese?  I found a few boxes.  I think it'll work for everyone tonight," Heero says quickly.

"That's fine, but-"

"I'd rather not answer," Heero says, tearing open the macaroni boxes.

"That long, huh?"  Trowa smiles and retrieves a large bowl from a cabinet he had scoured earlier.  He sets it near Heero and helps to empty the boxes of their contents.

"Yeah.  This will take awhile in the microwave," Heero states, looking forlornly at the small, black cooking machine.  "Will this bowl even fit in there?"  He proceeds to try and squeeze the ceramic bowl inside.  No luck.  "We'll have to make it twice, I guess."

Trowa begins looking through the cupboards again and suggests, "We could always boil it on the stove."

"Been there, done that, "Heero says uncharacteristically, "Rashid won't let me near it anymore."

Trowa's eyes balloon as he faces his friend.  Handing the Japanese man two smaller bowls, he asks, "What happened?"

Heero shrugs.  "There was a potato and eggs.  Tomato sauce."  He looks up thoughtfully and adds a few more combustible food items, and a couple non-food items.  "There was a small boom and some fire – no big deal.  The kitchen staff went crazy.  I wasn't allowed back for over a month."

Trowa coughs over a laugh, doing his best to hide his smile from Heero's glaring eyes.  The two men proceed in preparing the macaroni and twenty minutes later, one bowl is finished and ready to eat.  Heero glances to the living room, asking, "Should we tell him?"

Trowa shrugs and starts readying the second bowl.  "He's your boyfriend."

Heero growls, but stays in the kitchen.  He hops up on the counter, sitting next to the hot food.  "I can wait to eat until the next bowl is ready."

"Well, by the time this one's done, the hot macaroni will be cold.  We may as well start on it."

"Hnn.  Duo!" Heero yells suddenly.  He gets no answer – no yell back, no braided man bounding in.

Trowa looks questioningly at the Japanese man and shrugs again.  "Maybe he's asleep."

"He would've woken up once the smell of the food reached him.  I think he might be mad at me."  Heero jumps back on the floor.

"What for?" Trowa inquires after he starts the microwave.

"I-It's nothing." Heero starts to walk away, but stops uncertainly.  "I just – he likes to… I don't know the word… hug and be close."

"Cuddle."

"Cuddle.  He likes that a lot."

"And you don't?"

"I do most of the time.  Just not in public, or in other people's homes, or-"

"Or where anyone else can see you," Trowa finishes for him.

"It's just uncomfortable," Heero admits.

"Ah."

"What do you think?"

Trowa is surprised at Heero's wanting to know how he feels about that sort of thing.  "I – I don't know.  I've never been with someone, so-"

"Would you with Quatre?"

Trowa's brows knit and he scowls, "That's not relevant."

"It is," Heero insists, turning on his friend, "Because you feel for him the way I feel for Duo."

"It doesn't matter."

"Just tell me," Heero says impatiently, "Consider it advise for a good friend.  It doesn't have to go farther than this room."

Trowa hesitates, but finally says, "Yes.  I would… cuddle with him… anywhere.  It wouldn't matter where as long as he's happy."  He starts breathing hard, so he looks for something else to think about.  His gaze rests on the microwave and he forces himself to focus on the timer.

"Okay.  I'm going to go find Duo and apologize."  Heero leaves Trowa alone in the kitchen and begins his search in the living room.  Not finding the American there, he initiates a methodical search pattern and eventually succeeds, locating his boyfriend in their bedroom, feigning sleep.  Heero goes to the other man's bed and whispers his name.  "Duo?  I know you aren't asleep.  You never could regulate your breathing well enough to fool me."  Duo continues to pretend and Heero sighs.  "I want to apologize for leaving you before.  It was inexcusable."  Heero strokes the American's hair and leans in to kiss his cheek, but stops when violet eyes open.

"I forgive you, but I'm not in the mood," Duo says quietly.

Heero looks at him sadly and nods.  "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay."

"It won't happen again."

"Heero, it's okay."

"I never want you to think that I don't want to be with you."

Duo finally smiles, face still half-buried in his pillow.  "You know just what to say, don't you?"

"I hope so," Heero says, returning the small smile.  "I want you to be happy."

Duo sits up slowly and looks intently at Heero.  "I'm not the only one who needs to be, here."

Heero frowns slightly, saying, "I am happy."

"Even if it means showing affection outside of our apartment?"

"Yes."

"I know you, Heero.  That kiss at the circus was your punishment for losing a bet.  Letting your guard down like that more often… can you do that?"

"Heero smiles.  "Would you like me to show you?"

"Huh?" Duo asks dumbly.

"At the wedding, I want to dance with you."

Duo's eyes widen and he smiles.  "Heero, you don't dance until after the ceremony."

"Don't care…"  Heero leans forward and lightly kisses Duo's lips.  He offers a series of short pecks before surprising the other man and pushing forward forcefully, causing them both to fall back on the bed, Heero on top.

Duo quickly wraps his arms around Heero's neck, smiling around the kiss, and gasping when his mouth is forced open by the other man's tongue.

Heero thoroughly enjoys the taste of Duo and only breaks away when he runs out of air.  Breathing hard, he looks down at his friend – at this half-lidded eyes, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips.  His breath is taken away and he can only stare for a moment.  Recovering, he quickly recaptures Duo's mouth and ravishes it.

Duo can hardly believe the passion that he sees when Heero looks down at him.  And when the other man kisses him again, he can do nothing but surrender.  He breathes harshly when Heero releases his lips, but is offered no recovery time as his neck and earlobes are explored, only making him gasp more.  He can't help but moan and close his eyes as Heero starts unbuttoning his shirt and nips at his collarbone and chest.  "H-Heero…" he breathes and latches a hand onto his soon-to-be lover's hair, the other rubbing the man's clothed back.

Heero can't stop himself.  He starts rubbing his hips against the other man, causing hem both to gasp.  He can feel Duo pressing up into him.  He continues to kiss and caress the American farther down, but stops once his reaches his navel.  He draws himself back up to look into Duo's eyes.  "I love you."

Duo's eyes widen as he looks up at the Japanese man.  "Heero…"

Heero kisses Duo again, wrapping his arms around him as best he can.  When he releases him, Duo says, "I love you, too," making the Japanese man smile.  He smiles back and laughs lightly.  "Are you ready for this Hee-chan?"

Heero blushes and admits, "I don't know what I'm doing."

Duo laughs again and says, "Neither do I," causing Heero to laugh also.

Suddenly, there is a knock on the door and both men look nervously at the sound, then back at each other.

"Should we pretend we aren't here?" Duo asks in a whisper.

"I don't-"

Another knock, then a voice, "Duo?  Heero?  Are you in there?  I heard someone laughing."

"Quatre?!" Duo squeaks.

"Oh, thank heavens!  Can I come in?"

"Uh…"  Duo and Heero hurriedly get off of the bed and approach the door, Duo buttoning his shirt on the way while Heero checks them both over for signs of their previous engagement.  All clear, Heero pulls open the door to look into apologetic blue-green eyes.  "Hello, Quatre."

Quatre smiles warmly, not noticing - or simply ignoring – his friends' flushed faces and nervous behavior.  "I was just walking back to my room and I heard voices, so I though it had to be you.  When did you get here?"

Duo leans casually against the doorframe and answers, "A few hours ago."

"That long?!" Quatre exclaims, frowning, and looks around as if searching for someone.  "Why wasn't I told?"  Looking back at his friends, he adds, "Why didn't you try to find me?"

Duo and Heero blink dumbly at their friend before Heero informs him, "We did, but were unable to locate you."

"Yeah, man," Duo adds, "We figured that you just didn't want to be found."

Quatre frowns more and takes a better look at the men before him.  "Was I disturbing something?  Your faces are both flushed."

"That's not going to work this time, Winner," Heero insists.  "Oh," he says, turning to Duo, "I forgot.  Trowa is waiting downstairs with macaroni and cheese.  We made enough for ten people, so I figured that it would be okay to let you eat with us rather than after.  Even you can't eat the much."

Duo glares.  "Thanks, Yuy.  Thanks a bunch."

Looking back to Quatre, Heero asks, "Do you like macaroni?"

"Eh?  Umm… yeah, but I don't – I already-"  Before Quatre can finish excusing himself from dinner, his stomach growls loudly, making him blush.

"Come on, Quat," Duo says, "You can never have too much macaroni and cheese.

The blond smiles shyly and follows his friends downstairs and to the kitchen where Trowa sits with a fork full of yellow, cheesy goodness halfway to his open mouth.  Seeing Quatre, he stands abruptly, dropping his fork and effectively getting cheese on his shirt.

Duo covers his mouth and turns back around to hide a laugh.  Heero stops him from going into the living room, showcasing an amused smirk of his own.  "Couldn't wait, could ya, Tro?"

Trowa blushes and anxiously looks around for something to clean his shirt with.  "I - ah - sat here smelling it and – uh-"  Looking back at his friends, he smiles with embarrassment.  "I couldn't resist."  He reaches up with his hand and scratches the back of his head, laughing.

"Here, Trowa," Quatre offers, holding out a towel to the tall man.  The performer can only stare at the proffered item, so the blond starts wiping at the man's chest himself.  Quatre winces as his actions only smear the mess more.  "Oh, I'm so sorry!"

Trowa blushes, watching Quatre's face as he swipes at his shirt and doesn't notice the worsening stain.  When he finally looks down, he can only laugh more.

Duo and Heero watch their friends with mild amusement.  The Japanese man sees an opening and goes for it.  "Quatre, you should get Trowa another shirt."

"Don't worry about it," Trowa says, "I have an extra shirt upstairs."  He starts to walk toward the stairs, but Duo stops him.

"Well, wait!  Quatre, you're the host!  You should at least show him where he can clean up!"

"Duo, I've been here more than once before.  I know where things are," Trowa assures, giving the American a more than puzzled look.

"But-"

"It's all right," Quatre interrupts, "I'll just get you a towel while you change."  He quickly heads upstairs, followed by Trowa who turns to give the two remaining boys another strange look.  He and the blond separate at the top and then meet again at Trowa's door.  Quatre gets there before the performer can dig deep enough in his duffel bag for his shirt, so the tall man is still in his stained shirt.

"Here you go," Quatre says, giving Trowa a clean bath towel, and smiles slightly.

"Thanks."  Trowa walks back into his room, pulling off his shirt.  He goes into the small washroom adjoining his room and washes his face.  Going to his bed, he starts to pull things out of his bag, trying to find his errant shirt.  Not finding it, he goes to the dresser and looks through the drawers.  "Damn… Where did I put it?"

Quatre watches in silence as Trowa continues to search drawers and on the floor, under the bed.  Feeling a bit useless, he looks around uncomfortably, a nervous hand rising to rub his elbow.  His eyebrows knit and he bites his bottom lip.

Trowa sighs irritable, throwing his hands up in frustration.  Looking to Quatre, he says, "I don't know where I put it."

The blond looks up quickly.  "Oh, well, maybe Heero or Duo have an extra shirt," he suggests.

"I don't think they'd have me size."

"Neither would I," Quatre says, disappointed.

"It's all right.  I can wear a cheese stain tonight."

"But… Umm, Trowa, I have a couple of my dad's old shirts.  They might be a little musty; no one has worn them since…"  Quatre looks down and loosely wraps his arms around himself.

Trowa frowns and walks up to the blond.  "Are you sure it's okay?"

Quatre abruptly turns and walks out, saying, "Yeah."

Both men cross the hall to Quatre's room.  Once inside, the blond goes directly to his closet, stepping inside and disappearing into a sea of hangers and cloth.  Trowa watches in interest as he hears a few rustles.  When he hears a muffled "ow," he quickly approaches the doors Quatre had vanished through.  "Quatre?  Are you alright?"

A few more rustles are heard and the Arabian emerges with two shirts.  He holds them up and smiles sheepishly.  "Here you go.  I brought out two colors.  I know you don't usually wear white, but that's mostly what dad wore.  And I found this blue one."

Trowa takes the shirts, scrutinizing Quatre's face.  "I heard you says 'ow.'"

"Oh.  Uh…" Quatre laughs embarrassedly.  "I just hit my head on the pole thing in there."

"Pole thing?" Trowa asks incredulously.

"You know, the pole that the hangers hang on," Quatre answers, blinking innocently.

Trowa laughs.  "Yeah, I know.  I think I'll go with the white."  He hands back the blue shirt and watches as Quatre puts it back in the closet.

When Quatre comes back, Trowa is still standing there, shirtless, and watching him.  "It'll be a little big, I think."

Distractedly, Trowa pulls the shirt on.  The blond is right.  The sleeves hang a couple of inches past his fingertips and the shirt itself drapes loosely halfway down his thighs.  He holds up his arms and watches as the cuffs fold down over his hands.

Quatre laughs lightly and approaches his friend.  Pensively reaching for Trowa's sleeves, he begins to roll one cuff up to rest on the taller man's thin wrist.

Trowa closely watches the blond move to his other cuff.  As the sleeve is deftly rolled, the performer blushes and lowers his head.

Quatre finishes and looks into the tall man's eyes.  "There."

"I've been avoiding you," Trowa admits out of nowhere.

"You look good in white."

"I haven't been a good friend to you."

"You should wear it more often."

"I want you to know-"

"I want you to keep it," Quatre says quickly, not letting Trowa finish, and grips the other man's shirt lightly in his hands.

"Trowa's eyes widen.  "What?"

Quatre stares forward into the taller man's chest, seemingly concentrating hard on one of the buttons of his father's shirt.  "It's a good shirt, worn by a good man.  It shouldn't sit ignored in my closet."

"Quatre-"

"I don't want you to apologize anymore!"  Quatre pushes himself forward, wrapping his arms around Trowa's neck and pulling himself close.  Then he whispers into his ear, "Let me give something of mine to you."

Trowa pulls away, keeping the blond at arm's length.  "I'm wearing it.  Thank you."  He turns to walk out of the room, but at the doorway he looks back and says, "Duo and Heero wanted to throw you a bachelor party, but we couldn't find you.  So, come back down and spend time with you friends."  He walks away, tucking in his shirt as he goes, enjoying the feel of the expensive fabric under his fingers.

~+~+~

"Heero," Duo says carefully.

"Hnn."  Heero takes another bite of macaroni off of his plate, glaring at the American all the while.

"I didn't mean to."

"Hnn."  Finishing his serving, Heero takes his plate to the sink and rinses it off.

Duo carefully watches the Japanese man walk, paying close attention to his black slacks.  When his boyfriend turns to him again, he is faced with a large wet spot on the front of Heero's pants.  He grimaces.  "I tripped?"

Heero sighs loudly.  "It's okay.  It's fine.  This just means that we can't go out.  These are the only pants I brought besides the tux for the wedding."

"But, you won't even be able to see it when it dries!"  Duo tries giving his sad eyes, but it doesn't work.

"I am NOT going anywhere with a wet lap!" Heero yells.  In a soft mumble, he adds, "You just had to have milk."

"Sorry…"  Duo looks down at his recently emptied glass and frowns.

Quatre and Trowa return to the kitchen, stopping in their tracks when they see Heero's damp pants and Duo's forlorn look.

"What happened?" Quatre asks, rushing over to Heero.

"Our plans are shot, that's what," Duo answers bitterly.  "Sorry, Quat, my fault."  Standing, he grabs a handful of paper towels.  "I'll clean up the floor.  Heero, you can borrow my pajama bottoms."

Heero nods stiffly and exits the room.  Trowa gives him a questioning glance, but it goes unanswered.

From his kneeling position on the floor, Duo says, "I'm sorry, Quatre.  Tonight's been one mess after the other.  We were gonna take you out somewhere for a bachelor party of some sort, but it's all fallen through."  Looking up, he smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes.  "Hope you don't mind hangin' around here with a bunch of screw ups to celebrate your marriage."

Quatre doesn't answer – can't answer – but won't look away from his friend.  Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he turns to find Trowa holding tow plates of macaroni awkwardly balanced on one arm.

"Hungry?"  Green eyes smile as the blond takes a plate timidly and sits at the table to eat.  Trowa takes a seat next to him and carefully serves the food into his mouth, not wanting to repeat his earlier mishap and ruin a very important shirt.

Duo finishes with the floor and throws away the towels.  He watches his friends eat for a moment, but can keep quiet for only so long.  "Tro, that shirt looks good on you.  Where'd you get it?"

Without looking up, Trowa answers, "Quatre's closet."

The American stares blankly.  "Huh?  It looks kinda big."

Trowa looks to Quatre to answer, but the blond stays silent and continues to daintily pick at his food.  "It was his father's."

Silence reigns as Duo sits across from his friends.

Heero returns, now wearing black flannel pants.  He retrieves his seat next to Duo, not making a sound.  In fact, no one makes a sound.

Trowa and Quatre finish their meals and clear their plates and forks from the table.  They sit back down, but nobody says anything.  For what seems like hours, the proverbial tumbleweed rolls back and forth in the foreground until Quatre breaks the silence.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Everyone jumps at the sudden scream and stares wide-eyed at the blond Arabian.

When finished, Quatre leans back in his chair with a contented sigh, looking utterly relaxed, and smiles.  "I needed that."

Duo, still slack-jawed from shock, exclaims, "Jeez, Winner!  Give me a coronary why don'tcha!"

Heero laughs lightly and gets up.  As he passes behind Duo's chair, he grabs the man's chestnut braid and pulls him into the living room where they relax once more into the big, fluffy couch.  Trowa and Quatre follow suit – Trowa falling into the recliner and Quatre sitting on the arm of the sofa.

Heero puts an arm around Duo's shoulder and pulls him close, kissing the American's temple when near enough.  They both smile and enjoy the moment, but, seeing their friends' uncomfortable postures, pull apart and sit straight.

Trowa clears his throat, attracting attention to himself, but shakes his head to indicate that he has nothing to say.  Duo and Heero look away, but Quatre keeps his eyes on the brunette.  The silence is awkward, making everyone fidget.

"So, Trowa," Quatre tries.

The performer looks up curiously.

"Was your trip here okay?"  Cobalt and violet eyes focus once again on the tall man.

"Yeah."  Trowa clears his throat again.  "It was long, but I slept the entire time."

"Oh, that's nice."

"Yeah."

Quatre smiles warmly and stands up.  "Does anyone want any ice cream?  We only have vanilla, but I might find some chocolate sauce hiding somewhere."

"No thanks, Quat," Duo says, "I can't afford to spill anything more."

Quatre's smile falter as Heero nods his agreement.  He turns to Trowa hopefully, but gets another negative answer.  "Oh," he says, a small smile forced on his face, "Well, I'll just get some for myself, then."

As Quatre leaves for the kitchen, the three remaining men exchange guilty glances.

"Trowa, do something!" Duo demands.

"Me?  What am I supposed to do?" Trowa asks, shocked.

"Cheer him up!"

"How am I supposed to do that?" Trowa whispers angrily, leaning forward slightly.

"Go in there and tell him you changed your mind."

At Duo's suggestion, Heero nods.  Trowa glares.  "You're the one who refused first," he argues, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Trowa," Heero joins in, "It doesn't matter who said what first.  It has to be you.  That's just the way it is."

Still glaring at his friends, Trowa huffs, but stands and leaves for the kitchen.  There, he finds Quatre kneeled on top of the counter, digging through a cupboard.  "Quatre?"

The blond Arabian starts at Trowa's voice, hitting his head on the shelf he had been peering under.  "Ow…"  He looks over his shoulder, rubbing his bump with a hand.  "Yeah?"

Trowa smiles absently and walks up behind the blond.  "Do you need some help?"

"Oh, no!  I was just looking for the chocolate sauce," Quatre answers, poking his head back into the cabinets.

"Are you sure you have any?"

"Not really, but it can't hurt to look."

"It already has," Trowa mumbles.

"Huh?" Quatre asks abruptly, hitting his head again.  "Ow.  I gotta stop doing that."

"Quatre, come down from there," Trowa orders gently, resting a hand on the blonde's back.  "You've lost at least a thousand brain cells tonight hitting your head on things."  When Quatre doesn't move, Trowa pulls on one of his arms, bringing the smaller man out of the cupboard carefully.  He helps him down to the floor and brushes his blond strands back to inspect his forehead.  "Damn, Quatre.  You're going to have a bump on the noggin for your wedding if you aren't careful.  It's already plenty red."

Quatre blushes and looks away, raking his bangs back over his eyes.  "I want ice cream, but I can't find any chocolate," he says, whining like a five-year-old.

Trowa swipes at the blonde's bangs again, still holding onto his arm.  "Couldn't you just have plain vanilla?"

The Arabian takes a deep breath and sighs.  "I suppose."  Taking the small ice cream container out of the freezer, he proceeds to scoop out some into a bowl he had retrieved earlier.

Trowa sets another bowl next to the blonde's and asks, "May I have some, too?  I changed my mind."

Quatre looks up, surprised, and give a small smile.  "Okay."

Ice cream served up, the two young men sit closely together on the countertop, slowly spooning at their desserts.

"So, is chocolate your favorite topping?" Trowa asks.

"Mmm… but it's best if you have marshmallows, too."

"Ah."  Trowa takes another spoonful.

"What about you?"

"Chocolate with… caramel."

"That sounds good.  What about pizza?"

"Pizza?  Uh… sausage with red hot peppers."

"Bleah.  Hot peppers?" Quatre says, sticking out his tongue in disgust.

Trowa laughs.  "I didn't think you would go for that.  You seem like a sweet person."  Two sets of eyes widen and cheeks stain pink.  "I mean, you – uh – you seem like a _sweets_ person.  You like sweet things… as opposed to hot things.  Spicy… things."

Quatre continues to look, wide-eyed, at the tall man, not saying anything.  Trowa refuses to meet his gaze.  "I like hot things."

Trowa suddenly raises his eyes, seeing a hint of innuendo in sea-blue.  "Oh."

Quatre looks away, face flushed more than ever before.  He sets his bowl down next to him on the counter and scoots closer to Trowa until their thighs touch.  He turns back to the other man.  "Trowa?"

The performer is blushing furiously, but it can't be seen because of his bangs.  "I told you before, I can't-"

"Thank you for a wonderful bachelor party."  With that, Quatre leans toward the other man, pulling his face around to him, and kisses his lips softly.

Trowa's eyes stay open, but not for very long as the blond brings their lips closer together, circling his arms around the taller man's neck.  Trowa loses focus and gives in to Quatre's advances, discarding his bowl of ice cream and placing his hands about the other's waist.  Their mouths move together in perfect unison until Trowa gives into his desire and pushes his tongue into the Arabian's mouth, eliciting a gasp and then a soft moan.

Trowa tugs on Quatre's sides, silently begging to be closer to him, but they can only get so close when sitting side by side.  The tall man pulls back from the kiss, breathing deep, and hops off the counter.

Before Quatre can worry about the other man leaving, Trowa faces him and pulls them together again, positioning himself between the blonde's legs.  Their lips are smashed together once again, and their arms wrap possessively around each other.

This time, Quatre is the one to break the kiss, but Trowa doesn't let him get far, running his mouth along the blonde's jaw line to linger on his earlobe.  Suckling gently, Trowa rubs small circles on Quatre's back, not helping the shorter man to breath any easier despite the comforting gesture.

Quatre runs his hands through brown hair, squeezing lightly on occasion.  Trowa moves down to the blonde's neck while simultaneously pressing him forward at the small of his back and undoing the buttons at the top of his shirt.

Trowa breathes deeply, trying to memorize Quatre's scent.  Memorize because he won't be able to…

"Oh, god!" Trowa suddenly exclaims, pulling away from the flushed man on the counter.  Harsh breathing fills the air as the two young men stare silently at each other.

"Trowa?" Quatre asks, sounding almost like a frightened child.

"I can't," Trowa says, "We can't.  We shouldn't!  Damn it, Quatre, look at us!  Damn it all!" he yells, turning his back angrily.

Quatre reaches out to touch the other man's shoulder, squeezing softly when he makes contact.  "Trowa."

Trowa's body visibly sags.  He turns his head only enough so that he can see Quatre in his peripheral vision.  "I'm sorry.  I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait, Trowa!"  Quatre slides off of the countertop and follows Trowa as he goes into the living room and toward the stairs.  Duo and Heero are still on the couch, cuddling while watching television.  They turn around at their friends' return.  Their eyes widen at the sight:  Trowa's messed up hair and Quatre's open shirt.  They watch the blond trail Trowa closely, making several attempts in vain at stopping his progress upstairs.

"Trowa, stop!!" Quatre screams, half begging.

Trowa finally stops turning around to face his friend.  "I promised myself, Quatre!  I promised Cathy!"  Walking back down the few steps he made, he inches toward Quatre, leaning down far enough that their faces are so close, their noses almost touch.  "I can't let myself want you anymore."  He turns to walk away, but a thin hand forces his shoulder back around.

"What about what I want?!" Quatre demands.  "I've dreamt of being with you for months!  I want to be selfish.  I want you to be selfish.  Trowa, take what you want.  Now."  He glares, offering a challenge to dark green eyes.

Trowa answers with an empty gaze, forces the blonde's hands off of him, and goes up to his room.

Quatre is left to stand, staring after the tall man.

Heero and Duo avert their gaze, pretending to watch an action movie on TV.

Without making a sound, the Arabian walks up the stairs to his own room.  A few mumbled curses can be heard from the couch.

~+~+~

The next morning, Duo and Heero wake up comfortably tangled together on one of their beds.  Cobalt eyes open first, drowsy yet alert, followed by droopy violet.  Lids open and close slowly, letting their owners catch momentary glimpses of the other.

Finally able to keep his eyes open, Duo smiles sloppily at his bedfellow.  In a groggy voice, he says, "Good morning."

Heero returns the smile and the greeting warmly, lifting a hand and rubbing the other man's cheek.  He breathes deeply, edging closer to Duo, and wraps his arms around him tightly.

Duo allows himself to be pulled close and presses his face into the Japanese man's chest.  "Heero," he murmurs softly.

"Mmm…"

"Can we stay here forever?" Duo asks, sliding his hands up and down Heero's strong back.  His only answer is a breath-taking embrace, ending with the American underneath the other.  Their lips become as tangled as their limbs had been when they first woke up.  When Heero pulls back, he is all mouth – red, full, and open.  "Get up, Duo," he whispers.

Duo, with swollen lips of his own, stares, not comprehending at first.  He tries to bring Heero back down into another kiss, but the Japanese man won't budge.  He pouts, but only succeeds in separating their bodies further.

Heero rolls off of Duo and slides out of their bed sheets, shivering when the cool morning air hits his bare arms.  Wearing a black tank top and Duo's pajama bottoms, he goes into their private washroom, closing the door behind him.

Soon after Heero disappears through the door, Duo gets up, kicking up his knees when his bare feet touch the cold wooden floor.  "Ai!  Heero, I want my pants back!" he yells in the other man's general direction.  As he looks through his dresser drawers, he mumbles to himself, "It's fine under the covers, but I don't like walking around in just a shirt so early in the morning, especially when I get nothin' for it."  Slamming the drawers closed, Duo stomps over to the closet and pulls out several hangers, each with covers over the clothing.

Heero come out of the bathroom as Duo throws the clothes on the bed.  He frowns, brow scrunching up.  "Duo, what are you doing?"

"Setting out our tuxes."

"We don't have to dress in those for at least…"  Heero looks around for a clock, but doesn't see one.  "At least… hours?"

"It's eleven o'clock," Duo informs his boyfriend, looking at him sternly.  "We have to leave in just over two hours."

Heero frowns, his brow creasing.  "You're mad at me," he states flatly.

"No, not mad," Duo says.  "Disappointed, maybe, but not mad.  Do you want to change here or later at the church?"

Before Heero can answer, there is a knock on the door.  The Japanese man opens it, finding Rashid.  "Good morning," he says, staring blankly at the large man.

"Are you and Master Duo ready to go?" Rashid inquires uncertainly, not taking in Heero's attire until after he finishes his question.

"No," Heero answers shortly and shuts the door in the Arabian's face.

Rashid doesn't let the closed door deter him and starts to bellow through it.  "We are expected for rehearsal in a half hour!  Master Quatre is already there.  The rest of the wedding party has been sent ahead.  Everyone will be waiting on you!"

"All right already!" Duo exclaims, opening the door in a wild gust, the breeze sweeping back the tall Arabian's hair.  "We'll be ready in a few.  Just give us a minute to change into your tuxes."  Duo moves to close the door again, but Rashid stops him.

"You can change there.  I'll be leaving in five minutes.  Meet me downstairs."

Duo watches the tall man's back as he walks away, returning to the room only when he is out of sight.  When he goes back inside, Heero is already dressed in a t-shirt and his tux pants and is in the process of putting on socks and shoes.  Seeing that his boyfriend is almost ready to go, Duo starts to rush around to prepare himself.  Once he is dressed in jeans and a button-up shirt, Duo reaches for his brush, but Heero stops him.

"You can do that after the rehearsal.  We have to go, Mr. Best Man."

The title makes Duo smile, inclining him to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek.  He grabs his brush, sticks it in his pocket, and opens the top dresser drawer to grab the most important items of the day:  the rings.  Holding up the small, red, velvet box in his hand, he grins and says, "Can't forget these."

Heero gives a small smile, handing Duo his jacket and leads him out the door.  "Show time."

~+~+~

The ride to the church is uneventful and quiet for everyone, no matter which way they travel.  The arrival, however, is another story.  St. Michael's Cathedral, the oldest and, by far, the largest church on L-4, stands tall in the cityscape, but somehow appears dwarfed by the crowded mass surrounding its lot.  Newscasters are clustered at the front of the crowd, screaming at anyone who looks like someone to answer their questions, related to the wedding or not.  So far, they have gone unsatisfied.

Quatre and Jenna have been at the church since early morning, having predicted that a similar circus may arise.  Unfortunately, they did not share any pearls of wisdom with anyone else.

Duo and Heero arrive last in one of a long line of limos.  Their eyes widen and jaws drop when they catch sight of the mob.  As soon as the car stops, a swarm surrounds them, demanding answers to their various and petty questions.  A security detail, not nearly large enough, arrives, pushing the forceful crowd back in order to let the pilots into the sunlight.  Once the two young men step out, they are blinded by flashes and small, red camera lights.  They slowly make their way to the large cathedral doors, grateful for the barriers set up to keep the crowd off of the stone steps.  Before opening the doors to go in, Duo turns around, flashing his trademark grin, and waves enthusiastically for the cameras.  Heero glares, first at the American, then at all the women screaming.  He hurriedly grabs Duo's hand, trying to pull him away from all of the attention, but the braided man resists, saying, "Here's your chance, Yuy," into the man's ear.

Heero's eyes widen with realization at the American's meaning.  His promise.  Summoning a gargantuan helping of courage, he forces Duo toward him.  Cradling the other man's face in one hand and pressing the small of his back with the other, Heero takes his mouth hard.  The world watches as Heero Yuy French kisses Duo Maxwell on the steps of the biggest Catholic Church in space.  The mob screams even louder, some angry, some ecstatic, at the romantic display.  Some news people try to get at the couple, but the police keep them at bay.

When Duo and Heero separate, the rest of the universe doesn't exist, and they smile.  Heero takes the other man's hands in his own and squeezes.  "I love you."

"I love you, too."  The young men lead each other inside, ignoring the calls they receive from the outside.  Behind the heavy doors, most of the sound is dampened and they breathe a sigh of relief.  Duo nudges Heero in the side and winks.  "Let's go find everyone."

~+~+~

In a small room, normally used as an office, Quatre stands deathly still in front of a small mirror hanging on the wall, critically scrutinizing his appearance.  He is already dressed in his black designer tuxedo, red satin cummerbund, and red-rose boutonniere.

"Well, dad, here I am, about to get married."  Quatre tentatively touches the small, gold embellishments on his sleeves.  "I'm wearing your cufflinks that you wore when you married mom.  Give me strength."  Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and walks out of the room.  Halfway down the hall, he realizes that he isn't wearing shoes.  He hurries back into his dressing room and grabs his old oxfords.  When he goes back out to the hallway, he runs into Duo and Heero.

"Hey, Quatre!"  Duo waves excitedly and hurries to his friend, leaving Heero behind.  "You on your way to the sanctuary?"

"Yeah."  Quatre's grip on his shoes tightens, but he forces his hand to let go and drops them to the floor, sliding his feet inside.  "Do you have the rings?"

"In my pocket.  I haven't yet, but can I look at them?" Duo asks eagerly, making the blond laugh.

"Sure."

Duo quickly extracts the small box from his jacket and opens it.  His face falls immediately.  "Uh, Quat?  Is his her ring?" he asks, holding up a thin silvery band.

Quatre takes the ring between his thumb and index finger.  "Yeah, this is it."

"It looks exactly like yours," Heero says from behind Duo's shoulder.

"Yeah."

"Does she know about this?"

"Yeah.  She spied on me when I bought them."  Quatre hands the ring back to Duo and walks off, leaving his friends to stare dumbly after him.

Heero leans close to Duo's ear from behind.  "He doesn't seem right."

Duo nods mutely, placing the ring back into the box carefully, and walks after the blond.

Heero soon follows and hears the American mumble, "Of course he doesn't."

~+~+~

Quatre arrives at the sanctuary where everyone besides his friends in the hall is waiting.  The wedding party looks at him expectantly and he smiles lifelessly.

Duo and Heero enter shortly after the blond and they make their way down the long center aisle together.  Up three short steps, they land on the focal point of the wedding – the "stage" in front of the altar and pedestal.  There, Jenna and her bridesmaids stand to the left with the mother of the bride nearby.  On the right, Jenna's father stands with a few distinguished looking young men whom Quatre doesn't recognize.  Quatre counts the bridesmaids to be five.  Next to his two groomsmen, it seems excessive.  Just as the Arabian is thinking this, Jenna's father, a tall, dark, and intimidating man, approaches him.  He holds out his hand to shake, but lowers it when he sees Quatre's confused look.

"Quatre, it is good to see you again.  You're late, but not obtrusively so.  I can see you've noticed the uneven numbers."

"Yes," Quatre replies, misleadingly calm.  "I thought we decided that two people on each side would-"

"Two is such a small and insignificant number for such a grand occasion, so I took things into my own hands, if you don't mind."  Without letting Quatre answer, the man continues, "I would like to introduce you to three associates of mine; fine gentlemen, really high-class people.  I've invited them to be your extra groomsmen.

Quatre's eyes widen and he looks at Jenna in shock, but she averts her gaze in embarrassment.  The other girls giggle annoyingly.  He turns back to her father.  "May I ask what other last minute changes have occurred?"

"Of course!"  The tall man claps Quatre soundly on the back, making him lurch forward slightly.  "About this music that you have selected," he says, placing an arm around the blonde's shoulder and walking around in a slow semi-circle, "All of these romantic titles… completely inappropriate, don't you thing?  I've changed the program to include traditional hymns; pieces that are better suited for the environment.  Also, the ceremony will have to be strictly Catholic.  Muslim words don't have a place here.  That's all, I think," he finishes simply.

"Excuse me, sir, but I am Muslim," Quatre says, once again belying calmness, "And I believe that it is completely within my rights to have at least a partial Muslim ceremony."

"Well, that is your opinion, boy," Jenna's father replies darkly.  "There are far too many people here who would be offended by that sort of thing."

Four jaws drop at the man's bigoted words, but are stopped from saying anything by the mother.  "All right, then!  Why don't we get started?  Jenna, darling, close your mouth like a lady, boys like the gentlemen that I'm sure you are," she adds, turning to Quatre and his friends.  "Everyone who is marching, get to the entrance hall at the back of the sanctuary and listen for your cues!"  She shoos everyone off with practiced precision and takes a seat in the front row of pews on the left side.  "Cue music!" she screams in an unattractive fashion and the organ begins to play.

Quatre stands in front of the altar, rubbing his hands together in frustration and nervousness.  He looks over at Jenna's mother who is glaring at him, willing him to keep his hands at his sides.  He complies begrudgingly and settles on fingering he father's cufflinks.  He closes his eyes and repeats his earlier prayer, "Give me strength."

The rehearsal progresses smoothly from there, all things considered.  Jenna almost trips in her wedding shoes and starts to fret about how she will walk in her dress if she can't even walk while wearing slacks.  Her mother comforts her, of course, but Quatre's continual scowl keeps the girl on edge.

Against the wishes of her parents, Jenna cuts the rehearsal short and everyone returns to their respective dressing rooms, all except Duo, Heero, and Jenna who take the opportunity to confer with the groom.  Quatre speed walks into his room, followed closely by Duo, then Heero, and finally Jenna who shuts the door tightly behind her.

"I can't believe that jerk-" Duo starts to say, but Jenna interrupts him.

"Hey!" she yells, "That's my father you're talking about!"

"Family ties aside, lady!" the American seethes.

"Please don't argue!" Quatre urges.  "The current bad vibes are giving me enough chest pain as it is."  The Arabian sits heavily on a hardwood chair.  Locking eyes with Jenna, he asks, "What happened?  Half of that music was your choice.  We had decided on only two bridesmaids and two groomsmen.  And I thought you understood how important it is to me to have a partially Muslim ceremony.  We agreed, Jenna!"

Brows knitted, Jenna looks to each man, ending on Quatre.  "I'm sorry.  Everything just exploded this morning.  I didn't get a chance to talk to you about any of it.  My father just invited the extra people to come along for the ride.  I don't even know two of the girls.  And I can't apologize enough for what he said about your beliefs.  I hadn't even heard that before you did.  I'm so sorry."  She falls to her knees next to Quatre's chair and takes his hand.  "It's too late to get the Muslim priest back, but if you like, we can have a small, private ceremony later."

"Jenna, that-" Quatre starts, but is interrupted by a knock on the door.  "Come in," the blond calls.

Rashid opens the door, Trowa standing behind him.  Both men are dressed in formal suits, but not tuxes.  Quatre stands and smiles, a small, genuine gesture that puts the room at ease, at least somewhat.  "Master Quatre, Master Trowa asked to let you know that he has arrived.

"Thank you, Rashid," Quatre answers politely.

Rashid and Trowa enter the small room, making it a little crowded.  Trowa maneuvers closer to the blond in the chair, taking note of the girl holding his hand.  "Quatre, are you all right?"

"The Arabian nods slightly, but doesn't offer any other indication his well-being.  "Besides a few critical changes in the program, everything is going fairly well.

"That's not what I asked."

"I'm fine."

Silence pervades and the tension returns, smothering the room's occupants.  Jenna decides to intervene.  "Well, we have an hour.  I'd suggest we all try to relax ourselves to some point.  I'm going back to my room for now.  Quatre, I truly am sorry for what's happened."  With that, she walks out, followed by Duo.  The American signals Heero to stay behind.

As they make their way down the hall, Duo turns to Jenna and asks, "How can you be okay with this?"

Jenna doesn't look back at the American.  "Because I have to be.  You saw my parents.  I have no control"

"You didn't even try in there!" Duo accuses.

Jenna laughs bitterly, returning, "I spent the majority of my teen age years 'trying.'  I got months of house arrest and several threats of disownment.  I'm not prepared to be on my own."

Duo purses his lips, trying to think of a rebuttal, but comes up empty-handed.  Choosing to accept her reply, he switches to a lighter topic.  "Have you seen the rings?"

The girl laughs again, this time with humor.  "Yes.  I'm prepared to accept what comes.  I have been since I saw them a month ago."

Duo scrunches his brow in confusion.  "What's coming?"

Jenna shrugs carelessly, "They look like men's' rings, don't they?"  This makes Duo stop, but the girl continues on.  "Read the inscription.  I'll see you in line."

~+~+~

Still in Quatre's dressing room, Heero, Trowa, Rashid, and Quatre stand in uncomfortable silence.  It cannot be endured for long and the blond steps out with Rashid to find a drinking fountain and to spy on the goings-on outside.  The two young men left behind remain quiet long after the others leave.

When Trowa suggests that Heero also go to his dressing room, the Japanese man glares at him.  The tall man doesn't make any more suggestions.

"What will you do?" Heero suddenly demands, boring into Trowa's eyes with his.

Trowa looks away, his lips thinning to become a single, colorless line.  "I will do nothing."

"Then you are a fool," Heero states and walks rigidly out of the room.  

Trowa watches him go, then follows suit shortly after, making his way to the almost empty sanctuary.  He sits down in the front row on the right side and rests his arms on the short barrier separating the pews from the front part of the church.  He breathes heavily and bows his head, folding his hands together to take on a humble position.

Around him, Trowa can hear people making last minute preparations – adding decorations here and there, picking up stray petals that have fallen off of the flowers that sit and hang everywhere.  He ignores the sounds and concentrates on what he is doing.

Jenna's mother makes a grand entrance into the large, highly decorated hall, sporting a silver-satin dress, sleeveless, long, and conservative to a point.  She runs a bright pink feather boa across her bare shoulders, laughing like a schoolgirl.  She sees Trowa sitting in the front row with his head down and walks up to him.

Trowa tries to ignore the woman's close proximity, hoping that she will leave him alone, but when she doesn't leave after several moments, he gives in to the urge to look up.  He expects to see her smiling in a silly manner, but instead, she has a warm look on her face.  Trowa sees the boa and quirks an eyebrow up at her, making her add a guilty look to her smile.  She quickly takes the pink feathers and rolls them up in her hand.

"I don't believe we've met," the woman says, holding out a dainty hand to Trowa.  He takes it lightly and releases almost immediately.  "I am Linda Carlton, the mother of the bride."

Trowa nods, answering, "Trowa Barton, friend of the groom."

Linda smiles widely.  "I see.  Oh, yes.  Jenna has mentioned you.  I hear that you and Quatre are very close."

Again, Trowa nods, but says nothing.

"I couldn't help but notice you praying.  Are you Catholic?" she asks, seemingly very interested.

"No, but I can't help being somewhat inspired in a place like this."

"Are you a Muslim also, then?" Linda inquires, a bit disappointed.

"No.  I don't have a specific religion," Trowa replies dryly.  "Nor do I pray to a specific god."  The tall man stands, causing the woman to take an intimidated step back.  "Could you tell me where the restroom is?"

~+~+~

An hour passes quickly, too quickly in fact, for Quatre Raberba Winner.  By this time, the blond is standing in front of the church, faced by hundreds of gleaming faces with all eyes on him.  He tries to smile, but can't help feeling a small amount of contempt for several people in the front row, ruining the effect his shining whites usually have on a crowd.  "Give me strength," he mumbles to whoever is listening.  'Hopefully the cameras didn't catch that.'  Thinking this, the blond allows himself to imagine the consequences of that actually happening…

Angry parents whisk their daughter away…

Trowa comes to comfort me…

We go to my bedroom and make love until death do us part…

Organ music interrupts his short reverie and Quatre is forced to face the reality of dressed up couples marching down the center aisle to "traditional" wedding music.  He watches as a little blonde girl, Jenna's cousin, carries a large basket of rose petals and throws them on the floor.  Duo is next in line with his marching partner, followed by Heero, then the other men who nobody knows but the father of the bride.  Quatre keeps a chuckle to himself at Heero's sidelong glare directed at the bridesmaid clinging to his arm.

Duo and Heero line up behind Quatre, the American giving the blond a pat on the back.  Looking to the mother of the bride, they see a glare at the unnecessary contact in front of all of the influential people present.  Duo grins brightly, earning a few chuckles from the guests of good humor.  Quatre can't help turn and smile at his friend.  Turning back to the audience, the Arabian makes eye contact with Trowa in the front row.  He gasps slightly at the completely vulnerable look on the other man's face.  Green eyes look confused, worried, and utterly lost.  Quatre braves a small smile to his friend, but feels bad for not being completely sincere.  After all, he is still suffering from the effects of his "bachelor party" and can't do anything about it.

Trowa and Quatre are both surprised as the music changes into a definite bridal march and they look up the aisle to see Jenna in her full gown and vale being guided by her father.  Quatre swallows, being more afraid now than he has ever been before, even during the wars.  The closer the girl gets, the more the blond feels like collapsing.  He can feel her eyes on him.  He can feel her parents' eyes on him.  He looks once more to Trowa, feeling for his father's cufflinks.  He finds green eyes boring into him and he chokes on air.  Quatre coughs a little, doing his best not to make a scene.  Duo pats his back and rubs alternately.  Luckily, the other guests are so enraptured by the bride that they don't notice.

Soon enough, Jenna reaches the steps and climbs carefully, supported by her father's arm.  The dark man glares at Quatre for not stepping down to help his daughter, but the blond is frozen in his spot.  When Jenna reaches the altar, across from him, she smiles through her vale and reaches out for his hand, squeezing lightly before letting go.  Quatre offers a small smile, taking her vale and lifting it over her artfully fixed-up raven hair.  She smiles again and turns with him toward the waiting priest.

The long service commences, everyone waiting patiently for the end to come where the long-awaited kiss will be.  But before that can come, the dreaded question:  "If any have reason as to why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Quatre tenses at the silence that answers, jumping slightly as someone in the back sneezes.  His brows knit and he turns his bead slightly to his friends behind him.

Duo is frowning, as is Heero.  The Japanese man looks sharply at Trowa who immediately looks at his hands in his lap, idly playing with a fingernail.  Cobalt eyes narrow, hands clenching and releasing slowly and dangerously.  All people in Heero's line of sight begin to cower and slink away from the tall man under his scrutiny.  Duo clears his throat, then again, louder.  Looking up, the two men see that the priest's eyes are on them, along with most of the first four rows.  They both blush.  Trowa abruptly stands, but can't move beyond that point.  He hears several gasps and then the priest's voice.  "Do you have something to say, young man?"

Now, all eyes are on him and him alone.  Trowa looks fearfully at the extravagantly adorned old man, unable to speak.  He turns to leave, but Heero rushes to him and grabs his shoulder, painfully forcing him around, and glares at him.  "Trowa.  You can't leave."

The tall man frowns, saying, "This is not my place, Heero."

The Japanese man's eyes narrow further and he seethes, "Don't be a coward, Barton!"

Trowa violently rips his shoulder out of the strong man's grasp.  "I am not a coward!  I just can't be here!  How can I watch this?!"  He makes to leave, but Heero stops him again.

"I have never been so ashamed to call you friend!" Heero shouts.  Turning to Quatre, he adds, "The same for you, Winner!  You are both pathetic!"

Seeing the blond man's expression change from surprised to humiliated, Trowa's anger rises.  "How dare you speak to him that way!  What right do you have-"

Trowa is cut off as a fist flies against his jaw, throwing him into a guest sitting nearby.  The performer pushes himself off of the frightened man, charging at his attacker only to be kicked to the ground and getting the wind knocked out of him.

Duo runs to Heero's side just as the Japanese man is about let another punch go.  The American grabs the other man's arm and pulls him back.  "Heero!  Stop!  You're seriously hurting him!"  Heero turns angrily on his boyfriend, but stops, the fire in his eyes dimming considerably.  He cautiously looks to Trowa who has since sat himself up against one of the pew sides, breathing hard and not making a move to get up.

Trowa runs a shaking hand through his hair and winces as a hand appears in front of him.  Duo offers to help the injured man to his feet.

The three men in the wide center aisle look around to see everyone watching them, horrified.  Duo scratches his head and grins, turning around in a circle and apologizing.

Trowa turns toward the altar, seeing Quatre's look of incredible concern and looks away immediately.  Heero and Duo each grab one of his arms and pull him to stand directly in front of Quatre, back to the audience.  The blond stares up at Trowa's face, but green eyes still won't rise.  Everyone is the hall is completely silent.

"Trowa…"  Quatre raises a hand to Trowa's arm and pulls on his sleeve lightly, still not getting a response.

"Quatre?" Jenna says, unsure of what to do about the large, uncomfortable group watching them.

Quatre ignores her.  "Trowa, look at me."

Trowa doesn't answer, but looks at him sadly, and then turns away, passing a still angry Heero, who grabs his arm.  "I'm already bleeding, Heero."

"Good."

Duo steps in again, resting a hand on each of their shoulders.  "Heero, don't.  Trowa, you're staying," he orders, pushing the tall man back toward Quatre, communicating a silent threat through burning violet eyes.  Looking back to the blond, he says, "Listen, Quat, I'd better get Heero out of here."

"But, Duo-" Quatre argues.

"Don't," Duo interrupts him.  "Look, I'm sorry, but I agree with Heero on this.  You say you're doing this for family, and that's admirable, but at the same time, you're being a coward.  I mean, what would your dad… sorry."  Looking at Quatre's hands and the cufflinks they are playing with, he adds, "You should take those off… you don't deserve them."  With that, he leads Heero out of the church, heads turning back to the front as soon as they are gone.

At Duo's last words, Quatre collapses onto the floor, knees slamming onto the thin carpet.  His breathing becomes erratic and tears start spilling out of his eyes.  Jenna kneels down next to him, trying to comfort him, but he shrugs her off.

Trowa watches, lost on what to do.  He approaches the blond tentatively, crouching down in front of him.  Placing his hand on the other man's shoulder, he leans forward and says, "Quatre, I'm sorry."

Quatre looks up at his friend, short breaths racking his lungs.

Jenna watches all of this, getting angrier at the situation as it continues on.  Finally, she tells Trowa, "Stop apologizing and do something!"

Trowa looks at her, shocked, but turns right back to Quatre.  With his lips set in a determined line, he holds the blonde's arms in his hands and says quietly, "I object."

Quatre barely has time to register the words or react to them as Trowa leans forward and kisses him soundly on the mouth.  He tastes blood where the tall man's lip split from Heero's punch, but doesn't pull away.  He returns the kiss enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around the other man's neck, satisfied at all of the shocked gasps and whispers spreading throughout the sanctuary.

Jenna falls hard on her backside, cushioned by the long trail of lace and silk underneath her.  She smiles and breathes a sigh of relief.  But when she looks at her parents, she finds two frighteningly angry people.  Red-faced, her father stands in front of everyone and charges at the embracing couple.  "What do you think you're doing?!"

Trowa and Quatre ignore him, being too wrapped up in each other.

When her father reaches to grab one of them, Jenna stops him.  "Daddy!  It's okay," she soothes.  "I've been hoping that this would happen."  His eyes widen at her confession, prompting her to explain.  "They've been in love for a long time, but could never come right out and say it.  And I'm so happy for them," she says, choking on her words as she starts to cry softly.  "Let's go home… please."  Her father is unable to resist her plea and helps her up and out of the church, wife in tow.

~+~+~

The church slowly empties as the guests tire of watching the two young men hold each other.  After an hour, the sanctuary is completely empty, even of cameras, the only remaining witnesses of love being the religious images captured in the stain glass windows.

Eventually, Trowa and Quatre separate, stare, and smile.  Quatre laughs when he thinks of the face that had to have been on the father's face.  He sniffs and closes his eyes, rubbing at his cheeks where his tears have long dried.  Sighing, he looks back at Trowa.  "I don't know what to say."

Trowa smiles slightly and pulls the blond back into a hug.  "You don't have to say anything."  When he releases the other man, he stands.  "I'm in the mood for chocolate and caramel ice cream and apple cider.  Join me?" he asks, holding out his hand to his love.

Quatre smiles, taking the offered hand, and stands, saying, "Forever."

As they walk out, Quatre gasps, stopping in his tracks.  Trowa turns to him, concern shining in his eyes.  "What's wrong?"

The blond looks at him absently.  Shaking his head, he says, "Oh, it's nothing, really.  It's just… Duo still has the rings."

"Maybe he left a note or something in his dressing room or yours," Trowa offers.  "Let's go see."

Quatre nods and they make their way to the small offices.  Going into his room first, they find nothing but his old oxfords and jacket.  The blond discards his shiny black shoes for his broken in browns and they walk together to Duo's dressing room.  Inside, they notice right away that the American left behind his jacket.  Quatre clucks his tongue in disapproval.  Quickly picking up the jacket, he folds it over his arm.  As the piece of clothing is moved around, something comes loose from the pocket and falls to the ground.  It's a small, red-velvet box.

Quatre's mouth drops and he picks up the box.  Opening it, he finds two identical rings inside.  "I don't believe it.  He forgot the rings."

Trowa laughs and takes the rings out.  Looking at them closely, he reads the inscription aloud, "'Perfect duet.  Forever and always.' Quatre… why would you-"

"Wishful thinking, I suppose," Quatre admits.  "They're both inscribed with the same phrase." Quatre takes the rings and looks at them carefully.  "Jenna and I wear the same ring size, but I went ahead and had one made larger so that we could tell the difference somewhat.  Also in case I grew anymore."  He puts the larger ring on his finger, but it slides right off.  He puts the smaller one on and it fits perfectly.

Trowa takes the other ring and looks at it closely.  Curiosity peaked, he slips it on his ring finger where it rests comfortably sound.  He smiles and looks up at Quatre.  "Perfect."

Quatre gazes at the tall man, unable to speak.

"Forever."

"Always."

~fin~


End file.
